King's Bane
by awilliamsbbc.98
Summary: Ten years into their reign the Pevensies find themselves facing evil once again. With Peter missing and Aslan strangely absent, Susan, Edmund and Lucy find themselves racing against time to find their brother and prevent war with Calormen. But someone doesn't want Peter to be found and betrayal from within may be a pattern doomed to repeat itself. Early chapters slightly updated!
1. The News the Sparrow Brought

_**Greetings dear friends! I feel it has been far too long since I have written anything and for that I apologise. I have a full list of excuses of which I will satisfy myself with the telling the main two. First, I was very ill and in the hospital (I am mostly recovered now) and second I have recently become the proud owner of two orphaned cats. Between work, sickness and cats I have had very little time to write. Now, as I return to college hopefully I will have more time for creativity. Anyway, enough about me; here is the promised multi-chapter Golden Age era Narnian story! Whew! Obviously, I don't own Narnia, the Pevensies, or most of the characters. As usual there will be a few OCs of my own creation so any unrecognizable characters are mine. Is this slash? Of course not.**_

Our story begins in the land of Narnia many years ago. In those days Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were still living in their cozy dam; Tumnus the faun divided his time between the court of Narnia and his home in the Western Woods, and the four Pevensies were still ruling from their thrones in Cair Paravel. In those days Narnia was a gentle and peaceful land, though the traces of the White Witch and her winter were still present to those who remembered. But, by the grace of the Great Lion Aslan, High King over all High Kings in Narnia, the Pevensies ruled justly and in the time of their reign happiness returned to Narnia.

In the tenth year of what would be known as Narnia's Golden Age the High King Peter rode south to Archenland to the court of King Lune. There he was to preside over a diplomatic meeting between Narnians, Archenlanders, and Calormenes. He went reluctantly in the place of his brother, Edmund. It was Edmund who arranged the meeting and surprisingly it was Edmund who became known as the more sensible and level headed of the kings. It was also Edmund who had suddenly fallen ill three days before he and his retinue were to leave for Archenland. And so it was, that Peter, High King of Narnia rode out in his brother's stead and vanished without a trace. That is when our story really begins.

* * *

"Of course it would be raining." Had Edmund remembered how similar his words now were to those of so many years ago he might have laughed and forgotten his ill mood. Lucy, who always seemed to remember the place before Narnia better than the others, giggled and smiled angelically at her sullen brother.

"Come on Ed, cheer up, Susan wouldn't let you out of the castle even if it wasn't raining." Edmund glowered at her briefly then smiled,only somewhat reluctantly. It was impossible to remain sullen with Lucy in the room; her presence radiated light and happiness.

The two siblings were sitting together on the covered balcony of Lucy's room which faced eastward, over the rain greyed sea. Lucy's fair head was bent over a cloak onto which she was embroidering a golden lion's head. Edmund held a half-forgotten book on Calormen law which he had long since lost interest in.

"Won't you tell her I feel fine? If I left now I would only be three days behind Peter, I might even be in time to stop him from punching the Calormen ambassador." Edmund sneezed, rather negating his point that he felt fine and Lucy regarded him sternly and stood to wrap another blanket around his shoulders. It was easy to tell just by looking at Edmund that he felt far from well and Lucy was under strict orders from Susan to prevent his doing anything which would worsen his fever.

"Su isn't the only one you should be worried about keeping you here. We both know you too well to let you go chasing after Peter, making yourself more ill. He'll be fine," she added more gently. "He knows how important this meeting is."

A sparrow alighted on the railing of the balcony, her feathers ruffled and damp from the rain. She tilted her head curiously at the two figures and cautiously hopped closer to Edmund.

"Greetings cousin, what news from your flight?" Edmund asked her kindly. The sparrow rustled her damp feathers and bowed clumsily.

"Your majesties, I bear news from the court of King Lune of Archenland. He extends his greetings and hopes you will soon feel well recovered enough to join him in his negotiations with the Calormenes. He also wishes to inquire of you what has kept your royal brother from attendance. He understood High King Peter was to attend in your absence." The sparrow hopped back in alarm as Edmund leapt to his feet, scattering blankets and books.

"You mean to say that the High King has not arrived at Anvard?"

"Edmund, do calm down." Lucy put a gentle hand on his arm and he reluctantly resumed his seat.

"N-No your majesty. His majesty King L-Lune sent me to find out why not. A-Apologies, your majesty." The poor bird ruffled her feathers, looking as if she might die of fright. Edmund exchanged a worried look with Lucy and attempted to regain some semblance of calm.

"Peace, friend, you have done well to bring me this message. Have you told anyone else in Narnia of the High King's absence?"

"N-No your majesty, I swear."

"Then you have served us well friend. Have no fear, rest, eat and tomorrow my sisters will give you a message to return with to King Lune. Until then tell no one of your news from Anvard." The sparrow bowed and fluttered away.

"Edmund, what do you think it means? Surely Peter would have sent word if he had met with trouble on the road." Lucy's brow furrowed with worry. Edmund shook his head grimly.

"I don't know Lu. You must tell Susan what the sparrow told us. Send word to King Lune tomorrow; tell him to delay negotiations as long as he can until either Peter or I can be there."

"Won't you write and tell him yourself?" Lucy frowned worriedly as Edmund stood, gathered up his books, and turned towards the door which led back into the Cair.

"You and Susan will have to. I'm sorry Lucy, but I ride for Anvard tonight. It may be that I can discover some clue as to what happened to Peter on the road there. If not then I must arrive in time to prevent the Calormenes from discovering that Peter is missing. We can't risk them attacking because they think we are weak."

Lucy crossed her arms and stepped between him and the door. "Edmund! You can't possibly go. I'm worried about Peter too, but it's no use if you're too ill to help him. Let me or Susan go."

She may have been right and Edmund knew that, even through his concern for Peter, but he knew he could not send another of his siblings into peril. "I have to go. Lucy, trust me. I'll take Philip and one of the leopards, Asterius, we'll be fine."

She still frowned but stepped out of the way. "Then go; it's probably best if I don't tell Susan until after you leave. You would never convince her to let you go. May Aslan watch over you brother."

* * *

Edmund rode out from Cair Paravel in early evening, the leopard a shadow at his side and Lucy watched with a sense of deep foreboding and later turned her eyes to the sea. No Lion prowled along the beach to bring her comfort and the stars were veiled behind a layer of leaden clouds.

She shivered and went to find her sister. Susan would not be pleased. She was fiercely protective of her family but she could never quite understand the bond that existed between her brothers. Lucy understood that where one went the other would soon follow and if Peter were in danger no force in Narnia would keep Edmund from his side. Peter would do the same if their roles were reversed. It would have been useless to try preventing Edmund from riding after Peter but Susan would have spent precious time trying.

It was better to act as Edmund had, but Lucy wished with all her heart it had not been necessary. She hated being the one to tell Susan that both their brothers were now in danger. "Oh Aslan, please watch over them." She was not sure but she thought she heard a distant roar on the wind and it calmed her fears somewhat.

 _ **I will try to update weekly, hopefully I will be successful. Leave me a review and let me know if I'm off to a solid start ! :-)**_

 _ **Cheers,**_

 _ **A**_


	2. Two Kings and What They Saw

**And I'm back! I'm even updating on time! Thank you for your wonderful reviews on the first chapter! Here's the second chapter and it's even a little longer than the first. I still don't own and all previous statements still apply.**

Peter woke to darkness surrounding him like a death shroud. For one confused moment, he thought somehow he had fallen from his bed and become tangled in the blankets, but when he tried to move and found he could not some of his confusion vanished. He wasn't at home in his bed; he was on his way to Anvard. He remembered a vague impression of swirling snow and a deafening crash. Then he was falling and there was nothing else to be recalled.

It was strange then, that he did not feel cold. He remembered snow but the unidentified surface beneath him was warm and dry though far too hard to be a bed. Regardless of where he was he still couldn't move but that disturbed him only vaguely; for the moment he was strangely content.

The high king closed his eyes, which made no difference in the uniform darkness around him. He felt that he should be far more concerned than he was, but there was a kind of peace to lying still in a warm darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting between Susan and Lucy on a grassy hill overlooking Cair Paravel and the sparkling sea. Peter blinked in the sudden sunlight, once more confused. Susan laughed and handed him a sandwich.

"See Lucy? I told you our royal brother would fall asleep if given half a chance." She laughed musically and Lucy joined her.

Peter grinned a trifle sheepishly. "Sorry Su, I didn't realize how tired I was. I had the strangest dream." He frowned, trying to remember. "You know, I can't really recall what it was; how strange."

"Well, wake up! It's been far too long since the three of us spent any time together." Susan smiled conspiratorially at Lucy. "And Lucy has a surprise for us, or so she keeps telling me."

A thought nagged at the back of Peter's mind. Something was wrong. "Where's Edmund?"

To Peter's dismay Lucy burst into tears. Susan pursed her lips reproachfully. "Really Peter!" She scolded. "I expected better from you. How can you joke about that? You ought to know better than anyone that he is gone!"

"Right; I don't know how I could have forgotten." Memory and grief suddenly solidified within his mind. _He's dead; he died fighting the Witch,_ Peter remembered it all now, though a moment ago he could have sworn the battle had a different outcome. "I'm sorry Lucy, Susan, truly, I do not know what came over me. I cry your pardon good sisters." Somehow everything seemed different but he couldn't remember how. It was Edmund's death, it must be; he would never be the same after losing his brother. If only Aslan had been there to help them.

The High King of Narnia gathered his sisters into his arms and quieted Lucy's tears even as he held back his own. How could he have forgotten, even for a moment that Edmund was gone?

Lucy became cheerful again more quickly than would have been possible for anyone save Narnia's Valiant Queen. Susan still looked reproachfully at Peter, as if she thought he might forget again, but for the most part the afternoon picnic progressed merrily enough. Lucy's surprise, it turned out was none other than the arrival of a cheerful faun, a distant cousin of Mr. Tumnus', and an entourage of Dryads. They sang and danced and for a moment Peter could feel the weight of Edmund's, Tumnus', Orieus', and so many other deaths lifting from his shoulders.

The song the fauns sang was at once merry and solemn; it made tears spring to the eyes of the three siblings even as they laughed from joy. Peter wanted to dance, to fight and to cry all at the same time. When at last they collapsed, breathless and smiling upon the grassy ground all three were exhausted and content.

They stared up at the sky, bluer than any blue they could remember seeing before, and closed their eyes when the light of the sun shone too brightly. Peter slept.

* * *

Philip neighed his displeasure when the first snowflakes began to fall. Snorting he pawed at the ground and shook his mane. "It's no use looking for your royal brother in this blizzard lad."

Edmund chuckled, though the very sight of snow still had the power to make his stomach turn. "It's hardly a blizzard Philip. Just a flurry of snow, besides, Asterius can smell out the trail even in a storm."

The leopard bowed his head and purred in appreciation of the complement. "Your majesty, I am pleased with your confidence." He curled his lip slightly to reveal wickedly sharp teeth. "And as much as it pains me to say it, the horse is right. In a blizzard, there will be little or no use looking for the High King. A rainstorm or a flurry of snow would scarcely give me pause but," he tilted his head towards the mass of clouds gathering above Stormness Head and the pass into Archenland, "It will soon be no mere flurry."

"Then we should move quickly." Edmund glowered at Philip, regardless of the fact the horse could not see him and was suddenly taking a great interest in the nearest clump of junipers. "Philip, how often must I remind you that I am a child no longer. I am a king of Narnia and a king does not run from mere snow." More gently he added; "It heartens me that you are concerned for my wellbeing, truly it does, but it has been many years since the Witch's Winter was broken. Narnia is a land of peace and beauty now and even the snow will someday be free of her evil memories." _Would that I could yet be free_ , he added in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Asterius dipped his head gracefully. "As you say your majesty. I do warn you though, if the snow becomes too heavy I will lose the scent."

Philip snorted and pawed the ground. "Philip?" Edmund asked quietly. The horse tossed his head again then sighed.

"Very well, I will carry you through this fool's errand. But is it not likely that your brother is merely delayed by the snow?" He broke into a reluctant trot.

Edmund pondered the question. In different circumstances, he might have believed that possible, but Peter had sent no word; neither back to Cair Paravel or forward to Anvard to warn of his delay. It was unlike him to be so careless when affairs of state were at stake. _He knows this treaty with Calormen may be the only way to save us from war._ "No, he would have sent word. Aslan willing, we will find both the High King and the reason for his disappearance quickly." _And may Aslan grant you his grace and protect you from harm, my brother._

He shivered as the icy wind cut through his cloak and seemed to pierce through to his very bones. Ahead the ground sloped steeply up until it ran along the edge of a cliff, winding ever higher until it reached the pass. Edmund shuddered at the thought of the disaster one misstep would cause. Philip, or any of the Talking Horses of Narnia could navigate the road with impunity, even in the snow, but Peter had insisted on riding a horse from Archenland. As a rule Talking Horses were only ridden in war, or in Philip's case because the refused to give up their duties once war was over, and Peter refused to entertain the notion of a Talking Horse accompanying him on a diplomatic visit. As it was, the dumb animals of the South were less sure footed than their Talking cousins and Edmund feared that in a few minutes or hours he would look down into the precipice to the side of the road and see his brother and his guards lying dead and broken upon the snow.

He shivered again and pushed the image from his mind. One horse falling was a possibility but Peter had taken a centaur a stag and a score of talking dogs with him as well. Not all of them could have fallen to their deaths and therefore they must either be alive or some other disaster must have befallen them.

Ahead of them Asterius paused, his tail twitching in some form of agitation. "What have you found?" Edmund called above the wind.

The leopard's fur ruffled uneasily. "The trail ends here your majesty."

"Ends? Is the snow too thick for you to catch their scent?"

"The snow isn't deep enough to mask the scent of so many dogs." Asterius stated, somewhat primly. "No; it's simply gone your majesty."

Philip trotted forward to stand beside the cat and then, three things happened almost at the same time. Asterius stepped forward, tail twitching as he sniffed the air. Philip followed him and quite suddenly the ground seemed to open beneath them and swallowed up leopard, horse and king. For one long terrible moment Edmund felt himself falling through stifling darkness then there was a sudden jolt of pain and he knew no more.

 **Next chapter coming soon, please don't kill me! Also, if it's a bit confusing answers are also coming; it's meant to be a little unclear what's happening. Review and let me know what you think! Pretty please? Thanks!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	3. Sorcery and Dreams of Sorcery

**I'm updating early! YAY! Go me! Anyway, still don't own and apologies in advance.**

"What should we do? We only needed one."

"Yes; this one. This one has been influenced by darkness already; the other would be far more difficult to control."

"Don't be a fool! The other is the High King, this one is little more than his lackey."

"Shut up! I think he's waking up."

The persistent whispering fell silent and Edmund, who in fact had been awake and listening to the two voices for some time realized his deception was no longer useful. He opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus on anything that stood out in the nearly complete darkness. There was a rustle somewhere to his left and a moment later a spark of light flared to life. He blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the light and found himself staring up at two cloaked figures.

He found that his hands were bound and his back was pressed against something rough and cool; something which felt like rope was wrapped several time around his chest, forcing him to sit upright. The faint light revealed he was in a cave of reddish stone, broken occasionally by patches of dark earth and twisted tree roots from which vines sprouted like blind snakes.

Across the cave from him the light reflected of a glint of gold and the standard of a red lion. _Peter._ The high king seemed to be asleep, his head lolling to one side and a peaceful expression upon his face. He was lying against the largest of the tree roots and the twisting vines seemed to have grown around him, wrapping themselves like ropes around his torso and limbs. Edmund realized then that it was not ropes which bound him, but the vines. The thing his back was pressed against must be the root of a great tree.

Edmund tried to call out to his brother but his voice caught in his throat and he coughed painfully instead. When he had somewhat recovered his breath Edmund scowled angrily up at the two cloaked figures. The taller inclined its head slightly in a mocking bow.

"Our mistress bids you welcome, Edmund. Consider it an honour that she has sent us to speak with you. It was not a courtesy extended to your royal brother."

The shorter figure stepped forward with a strange slithering movement. For a moment Edmund thought he saw a scaled, reptilian tail beneath the dark cloak. "Our mistress bade us find the son of Adam whose blood was tainted by treachery. You are the traitor king; you will serve our mistress' purpose."

Edmund found his voice at last though his throat still felt terribly dry. "What have you done to my brother?" he demanded.

The taller figure hissed in something like laughter. "We sent him home, son of Adam; in his dreams, he is home and has come to no harm. He may yet be of use to our mistress."

"Who is this mistress you speak of?"

"We are not worthy to speak her name! She is far greater than any of us; she defeated death itself and has returned to save her faithful servants."

Edmund felt as if a sliver of ice settled in his heart. _No. it couldn't be._ "Only Aslan has defeated death." But his voice shook.

Again, the figures laughed their hissing laughs. "Your lion no longer holds the power to protect you. You will all bow before our mistress or you will die." They turned as one and disappeared into the shadows their steps strange and slithering. Edmund watched them go and shivered; his head ached abominably and he realised with annoyance that his fever had returned. _If I make it out of here, Susan is going to kill me._

"Peter!" He tried to keep his voice low but when his brother did not stir he abandoned caution and shouted his name. "Peter! Wake up!"

Peter lifted his head slightly and blinked blearily across the room. "I'm dreaming; you aren't real." He closed his eyes.

"Peter!" Edmund fought against the vines that held him but they only grew tighter until he could scarcely breath. "Peter, wake up!"

"I'm sorry Edmund. I'm sorry that you died for us." But before Edmund could respond in protest that he was very much alive Peter was once more fast asleep. Edmund fought the vines in frustration but only succeeded in tightening them further still until they cut into his wrists and his vision swam from lack of oxygen. At last he closed his eyes and tried to think.

Peter was alive and seemed unharmed and that, it seemed, was where the good news ended. He had no idea what had become of Philip and Asterius or of Peter's own guards. It was likely they too were imprisoned somewhere nearby or that they were dead. Peter was disoriented, possibly drugged or enchanted, and would be of no help. And Edmund himself was ill and bound. Escaping on their own seemed unlikely if not utterly impossible and Edmund cursed the ease with which the trap had been sprung and his own stupidity in falling into it. _Aslan, in your mercy defend us._

He had not meant to sleep, but when he opened his eyes Edmund knew at once that he must have fallen asleep. He stood on the hill of the Stone Table and before him rested the table itself; cracked in two by Aslan's sacrifice and the deepest of all magic in Narnia. The sun rose slowly in the east and against the golden disk stood the silhouette of a great Lion. Aslan looked down upon Edmund as he knelt before the table and for a moment Edmund felt the familiar peace of Aslan's presence. Then quite suddenly Aslan turned his face away and vanished. The light died as clouds covered the face of the sun and a cold, dead wind blew from the north, freezing the summer trees and silencing the woodland animals. Edmund shivered in the sudden winter and turned, dread filling him to face the north. A great storm was approaching, swirling snow and bitter wind obscuring all in its shadow and Edmund knew then with terrible certainty that the Witch was there at the centre of the storm.

* * *

The high king's dreams were troubled. Once, he thought he woke to hear Edmund calling out to him; for a moment, he saw his brother's face, older then when he had last seen him, pale and streaked with dirt but alive. For one moment of pure hope Peter believed that this was the reality, that Edmund's death was the dream, but then he knew the truth and turned away from the apparition which had come to haunt him. He woke and slept no more that night, choosing instead to walk the silent halls of Cair Paravel alone with his grief and guilt.

The next morning, he rode out without a word, journeying to the ground on which the Battle of Beruna was fought. Ten years had changed the landscape very little. Statues still littered the landscape, a testament to the devastation the Witch had wrought with her wand before Edmund destroyed it. Flowers were around and hung upon many of the statues, tributes by family members to their fallen loved ones.

Peter blinked back tears as he neared the pile of stones that marked his brother's grave. The memory of his desperation when he found Edmund lying still and silent beside the body of the dwarf who had killed him returned to him painfully. If only Aslan had been there to help them. If only he had defeated the Witch more quickly. If only someone had been there to save Edmund, who had fallen, gravely wounded by the Witch and yet had somehow managed to kill Ginnabrik, her lieutenant even as the dwarf struck him a mortal blow. Lucy and Susan, arriving too late for even Lucy's cordial to save their brother could only watch helplessly as Peter held his brother and cried.

Now Peter knelt next to the pile of stones and rested his forehead against them. "Hello Ed, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've visited you. The girls are at the castle; they're safe. We've finally hunted the last of the Witches forces; Narnia is free of her at last. I wish you were here to see it." He blinked away the tears that clouded his vision. "We couldn't have done it without you Ed, everyone knows that. You're a hero." He closed his eyes and for a moment it seemed reality shifted.

He was in a cave, dimly lit by a single candle. Directly across from him, with his back against a tree root and his hands bound with vines sat Edmund. He was older, it seemed the same age as he would have been if he were still alive. He seemed to be sleeping, trapped in some nightmare, for his face was twisted in an expression of pure fear.

Peter shuddered and opened his eyes to sunlight and the old battle field. He stood stiffly and wiped the drying tears from his face. "I miss you Edmund."

* * *

Edmund woke, shivering to find himself back in the dim cave. He blinked and found himself looking into the face that forever haunted his nightmares. The Witch smiled down at him, her red lips starkly contrasting her snow pale face. "Edmund dear, how I've missed you."

 **So...I guess everybody misses Edmund. Too bad Peter doesn't know he's alive. If you happen to leave a review maybe you would also be interested in telling me what you think is actually real and what is a dream. Hopefully it's clear that at least some things are not as they seem. It's pretty obvious that Edmund isn't dead, hopefully, but does that mean that Edmund's current version of reality is the true version? Let me know what you think about that question!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	4. The King and the Witch

**Well, here we go! Surprisingly I keep updating early; does anyone mind? This one is long, the first third is pretty much just filler information because I wanted to include a bit of Lucy and Susan's perspective. Anyway, in response to a guest review; if you consider the movies, which I do, at least partially, then there is a possibility. Also, special thanks to Lydwina Marie for always beig an amazing and prompt reviewer! You're the best!**

 **My name isn't Clive Staples Lewis and I don't go by Jack, so I still don't own Narnia. Bummer.**

Susan was furious, but only those who knew her best could have guessed, and of those three two were now missing. She was outwardly calm, gracious, and in perfect control while in reality the Gentle Queen wanted nothing more than to shake her two, well-meaning but recklessly careless brothers. As days passed with no word from either Edmund or Peter Lucy became silent and withdrawn, her own sense of guilt driving her to wander forlornly through the deserted sections of the castle. Susan was too outraged by Lucy's part in Edmund's deception that she scarcely noticed her sister's absence.

Three days after Edmund's departure Susan realised with growing despair that King Lune could not reasonably be expected to delay negotiations with the Calormen ambassador for much longer. If her brothers did not return it was more than likely that Narnia would soon be on the verge of war with Calormen. She did not doubt for a moment that the Tisroc, who most certainly would not live forever, would not hesitate to take advantage of any perceived weakness in Narnia.

Susan rubbed her aching temples distractedly and began to draft a message to King Lune. The negotiations would have to proceed without Narnia's monarchs, whether that led to war or not. Neither her or Lucy could risk vanishing as Peter and Edmund had and leaving Narnia truly leaderless.

"Oh Aslan, won't you help us? Show me what I should do." But if the Great Lion heard her he remained strangely silent and Susan sighed and turned back to her parchment. She felt terribly alone.

Lucy too felt her brothers' absence keenly. This was different than the times they were away on campaigns against the giants in the North of the Fell Beasts which still occasionally appeared in the Western Woods. This time they were missing and she couldn't help but feel that it was partially her fault. It was she who had allowed Edmund to leave in search of his brother. It was she who had aided him in deceiving Susan.

She spent her days mostly wandering through her brothers' chambers. Their section of the Cair was largely deserted in their absence and the empty rooms had already begun to take on a strange, eerie quality of abandonment. In Edmund's room she found shelves, stacks and disorderly piles of books, a golden chess set and little else. The servants, it seemed, had given up trying to bring any semblance of order to the chaos. Lucy smiled but her heart ached with sadness; there was little comfort to be found in his room. Peter's room was far tidier, a testament to his less reclusive nature. The servants obviously had very little trouble tidying the few things he displaced on the rare occasions he was even in his chambers. Edmund's room was a refuge from the outside world, Lucy realized; Peter's was barely more than a place to sleep.

She closed the doors silently, as if afraid to disturb someone and tiptoed back into the sunlit hallways. She longed to run out of the Cair, down to the golden sand along the ocean; to turn her face to the East and to Aslan. But her guilt prevented her from seeking the Lion's council. In the end, she was the one responsible for whatever might befall Edmund.

* * *

Peter opened his eyes with a now familiar sense of confusion and found that once again he could not move. Across the cave Edmund was watching him with something akin to terror in his eyes.

"Peter? Do you know who I am?"

Peter stared at him in shock. "Of course, I do!" And then he remembered everything in a blinding flash of confusion and grief. "I dreamed you were dead. "

"I know. You didn't think I was really here last time you woke up." Peter frowned and tried to see his brother's face more clearly in the dim light.

Edmund looked awful, Peter concluded. His dirt streaked face was flushed with fever beneath the layer of grime and Peter realized that Edmund must have ridden out after him before he was recovered from his illness. Ordinarily he would have scolded his brother for being reckless but the memory of his far too real nightmare was still too vivid in his mind. So instead he forced a smile as much for his benefit as Edmund's.

"So, is this supposed to be a rescue? You couldn't have sent a fully armed patrol? You had to come tumbling into this mess after me?" He was careful to keep his voice light and after a moment Edmund smiled reluctantly.

"It seems I underestimated your ability to find trouble on your way to a peaceful meeting."

For a moment they were silent, Edmund appearing lost in thought and Peter trying not to think about the nightmares that had plagued him. Finally, he spoke. "Ed?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you been having strange dreams? Nightmares, I mean?"

Edmund shivered. "I don't know. I think so, at least, I hope what I saw was a dream, if not…" He let the sentence trail into silence and Peter waited for him to continue. "When you woke earlier you couldn't tell what was real. I don't know if it is this place or the creatures I spoke with earlier, but there is strange magic here. Something is clouding our minds, blurring the lines between dream and reality. You've been here longer than I have so it's probably worse for you, but I think it's starting to effect me too. I don't know how much of what I've seen is actually real."

"Edmund, what are you trying to say?" Peter frowned, Edmund only resorted to long explanations when he was frightened and trying desperately not to show it.

"I saw her, Peter." His voice shook. "I saw the Witch."

Peter felt a sudden chill at his brother's words. "That isn't possible; it can't be."

Edmund shook his head. "I don't know, Pete." He leaned back against the rough tree root and closed his eyes. "It seemed so real."

"I thought you were dead; that seemed real." Peter realized with a sense of surprise that he was unused to being the voice of reason. Sometime in the past ten years Edmund had quietly stepped into the role of being the calm voice in the midst of crisis.

Edmund nodded silently but didn't open his eyes. "We should try not to sleep; who knows when we'll wake up again." The if in his statement was far too clearly implied for Peter to miss.

They sat in silence for so long that Peter would have thought his brother had fallen asleep if not for the frequent coughing fits that forced his eyes open as he fought for breath. Peter decided that it didn't matter who was responsible for their capture, he hated them. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to loosen the vines that bound him but they seemed to only become tighter the more he moved. He gave up at last with a frustrated curse that would have had Susan scolding him for his lack of decorum. Edmund laughed before another coughing fit left him wheezing for breath.

They sat for what seemed like hours and nothing else happened. Edmund's coughing seemed to calm at last and Peter found himself fighting to stay awake. Then a hidden door in the wall slid open ponderously and both brothers tensed.

Edmund felt the sudden chill in the air and knew, even before the approaching figure appeared who it was. The Witch swept into the cave, a terrible smile upon her face and a wicked looking knife gleaming in her right hand. She passed Peter without a glance and stood towering above Edmund.

"Leave him alone!" Peter shouted, fighting the vines that bound him with a strength borne of sudden terror, but it was to no avail, they only grew tighter.

Edmund looked past the Witch, his eyes wide. "You can see her too?"

Wordlessly Peter nodded. He was furious at his own helplessness.

The Witch laughed; it was an ugly sound, filled with spite and Edmund flinched away from her. "Little king, I'm here to offer you a choice. You can go free or your brother can go free, your choice."

"Then let Peter go." Edmund didn't hesitate even when Peter shook his head in silent warning.

The Witch laughed again, gleefully. "What? Have you forgotten that you are a traitor Edmund? Selfish enough to trade his family for sweets? You would sacrifice yourself for your brother again? Surely you must know he would never do the same."

Edmund met Peter's gaze, his eyes calm now. Then he turned his gaze to the Witch and faced her without a trace of fear in his expression. "Yes, I was a traitor, but I never will be again."

"Not even to save your dear family?" Edmund stared up at her in silent defiance. "The price of your brother's freedom is your betrayal, little king. Tell me where you have hidden the shards of my wand, betray your kingdom and your brother will be free to leave with the rest of his rabble."

Peter wanted to call out, to order his brother not to take her bargain, but his voice seemed frozen within him. He fought the vines until the nearly crushed his chest. Edmund met his eyes once more and smiled reassuringly.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will kill dear Peter and you will be free to return to your beloved sisters. Though, I doubt they will welcome you back."

Slowly, terribly Edmund nodded. "Then I will tell you what you wish to know. What you seek is buried beneath the Stone Table. Now let my brother go."

"He will be free to leave with his guards as I promised." She turned on Peter in a swirl of white and suddenly Peter felt the inexorable pull of sleep descending on him. "You should have made me promise he would be awake; I can't have him warning your sisters."

Peter was falling through darkness though vaguely he heard his brother calling out to him. "Peter! You have to wake up, you have to remember! Warn the girls! PETER!" Then sleep took him.

 **Don't hate me! Or do, either way! :-) Just leave a review to tell me if you do or not!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	5. Dark Tidings and Treachery

**What is happening?! I'm updating almost daily and my updates keep getting longer too! Whooo! The reason seems to be an enormous amount of sudden inspiration, weird right? Anyway, I will update frequently as long as I am inspired, and honestly I've never had the level of inspiration I do now. Hopefully this chapter is a good one!**

The day Peter returned to Cair Paravel Lucy dreamed of lions. They were not Lions as the Talking Lions of Narnia were; they were not wise and kind as Aslan was. These lions were dumb and witless brutes who haunted her dreams even as she fled before them. When Lucy awoke it was with a lingering terror she could not banish.

She dressed quickly and fairly ran out into the sunlit courtyard, startling Susan who was eating breakfast in a little dining room that bordered it. Susan abandoned her toast and joined her sister as Lucy stared out at the land, not to the East as she was wont to do, but towards the towering southern mountains.

"What's the matter, Lucy?" Susan momentarily forgot her anger with her sister in her relief at not being alone.

Lucy shook her head. "Something terrible is hanging over us. I have this horrible feeling that Aslan is gone and Edmund, oh Susan, I'm so dreadfully afraid that he's done something awful! I don't know why." Her chin shook as she tried to hold back tears.

Susan out an arm around her gently. "Lu, it's alright. You are the one who above all believes that Aslan is always with us, even when we cannot see him. No true harm can befall our brothers while he watches over them." _Let it be true, please, Aslan, protect them. Please show yourself to us._ As if in answer to her unspoken plea the courtyard suddenly erupted into chaos.

A score of talking dogs burst through the open gates, their tongues hanging out in exhaustion, and such a din of barking, yapping and panting arose from them that the two queens nearly missed the arrival of a centaur, a stag, and Asterius, the leopard who had accompanied Edmund. Their hearts leapt with joy and hope, only to plummet in despair a moment later when Philip followed the others, a single, slumped figure half falling from his back.

"Peter!" Lucy cried out above the din and pushed through the confused mass of creatures to Philip's side. It was indeed Peter; his eyes were closed and his face was dreadfully pale though Lucy could see no evidence of wounds. He seemed to be asleep, slumped over Philip's neck, completely oblivious to the racket the dogs were making.

Philip himself was a sorry sight. His head hung low as he panted and his tail drooped. All the creatures were streaked with grime and mud, all were exhausted, but no one seemed to be injured. Wordlessly Susan helped Lucy lift Peter down from Philip's back and the horse heaved a great sigh of relief.

"Is he hurt?" Susan asked Lucy desperately, shaking Peter's shoulders in an attempt to wake him.

"I don't know." Lucy blinked back tears when Peter did not so much as stir. "Philip, what happened? Where's Edmund?"

"I don't…know, your majesties," the horse panted. "We fell…the ground opened…beneath us. When I woke up…we were back in the mountains…with the High King. There was no sign...of King Edmund. With the High King unable…to tell us what transpired…we knew only that we must return." He stamped the ground uneasily with his front hooves. "I would not have left King Edmund…but that his brother had need of me."

Susan nodded blankly. _Edmund, where are you?_ "Has Peter woken at all?" Philip shook his head.

"He hasn't so much as…stirred, Queen Susan."

"Lucy, perhaps your cordial?" Susan watched as her sister hastily placed a few drops of the precious liquid in Peter's mouth. Nothing happened; the High King remained as he was, his eyes closed and breathing steady in sleep. Lucy wept and Susan felt her own eyes clouding with tears of desperation.

 _Oh Aslan, where have you gone? Have you truly abandoned us in our hour of need? What have we done to bring such sorrow upon ourselves?_ Far away to the South a wolf howled and Susan shivered.

* * *

Try as he might Peter could not remember what he had dreamed about. He felt somehow that it was frightfully important but every time the memory seemed near it slipped from his grasp. It made him distracted as he trained with Menwy, a dark haired centauress who was a distant relation of his first general, Orieus. When he failed to parry her attack, and for the fourth time that day found himself sprawling in the mud, she huffed and pulled him to his feet.

"Forgive me, High King, but if you were to show such a poor display in battle your head would quickly part company with your shoulders. What ails you?"

Peter shook his head to clear it and sent clumps of mud flying from his hair. "My apologies, Menwy, my mind is elsewhere today. I feel as though I have forgotten something of great import to all of us, but I cannot recall it, try as I might."

"Then, perhaps, you should take your leave until you have recalled it. Training will serve little purpose when you are too distracted to keep your feet." Her voice was gruff but not unkind and Peter felt his face flush with embarrassment as he nodded.

Regardless, he was grateful to leave the practice field in search of a bath. If Susan saw him in his current state she would doubtless turn him out of the Cair for tracking mud. He smiled at the thought.

As Peter climbed the stairs to his chambers he thought he heard a distant voice call his name. He turned and saw no one near him, nor was anyone calling up to him from the courtyard. He was about to dismiss it when, quite clearly, he heard Edmund's voice calling out to him.

"Peter! Warn the girls; remember the Witch. Remember!" Peter froze where he was, his heart pounding as a nameless terror swept over him. For a moment, he saw a snowy mountain before him and the long, solemn face of a horse bending over him. Then, he shook himself and the image was gone, though it was with surprise that he found his teeth were chattering with cold. For a moment, the cold of the mountainside utterly overwhelmed the warmth of the summer sunlight which spilled through the open windows. Peter shivered and redoubled his speed, wishing he could leave the strange feeling behind, but it seemed to follow him, no matter how quickly he walked.

After he had bathed and exchanged his mud soaked clothing for fresh clothes he sought out Creon, the court physician. The little faun was bustling about with a strangely distracted air when Peter entered the large room that served as his office. He looked over the top of his glasses and smiled nervously at Peter.

"High King! To what do I owe the unparalleled honour of your visit? I hope your majesty is not unwell?" Peter grimaced, both at the formality and the enthusiasm of the faun's greeting.

"Not at all, Master Creon. I came to seek your advice."

"Of course, your majesty!" The faun fairly danced with delight as he clapped his hands together. "Anything one so humble as I can do to aid the High King of Narnia!"

His exuberance was quickly giving Peter a headache. "Master Creon, there is no need to be so formal; I have every faith in your skills. I have been plagued by strange dreams these four nights past, and yet I cannot seem to recall them upon waking."

"Your majesty wishes to recall them?" The faun was suddenly grave.

Peter nodded. "I feel there is something different about these dreams, something which may be of great import to the kingdom. I cannot say what makes me feel so, but that thought keeps returning to me."

"What your majesty asks is no easy task." Creon shuffled his hooves nervously. "To recall that which is hidden from your waking mind requires you to walk consciously in that which is unconscious."

"Master Creon, I beg you to speak plainly." The impatience in Peter's voice must have been apparent for the old faun shuffled back, widening the space between them. With an effort Peter quelled his annoyance. "My apologies. I have slept poorly and am out of humour."

"It is I who must ask your forgiveness, king." The faun bowed and continued. "What you ask is possible, but I beg you to reconsider. Dreams are forgotten to protect the mind from their horrors. To remember that which is hidden for your protection is to risk madness."

"To be haunted by terrors I cannot recall and to fear sleep is to risk madness," Peter stated dryly.

The faun bowed again. "Then, your majesty, I will prepare a potion which allows you to remain aware, though you dream. You will be able to walk consciously through dreams and will recall them when you wake. I must warn you however, if you wander too far into your dreams you may not find your way back out."

Peter nodded. "I understand, please, prepare the potion and bring it to my chambers when it is done." He left quickly, before Creon could bow yet again.

* * *

The potion, when Creon brought it to him, was unutterably foul tasting but he drank it without complaint. Almost at once he felt his limbs become heavy as sleep called to him and when he closed his eyes he found himself in a dream.

Edmund stood before him, bloody and insubstantial as a spirit. "Why did you leave me, Peter?" His voice echoed strangely as if he spoke from a great distance. "Why did you leave me to die on the battle field?"

Peter felt tears burn in his eyes. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry Ed; I'm so sorry."

"It was your fault, Peter. You drove me to betray you to the Witch, you drove me to sacrifice myself in search of redemption. There is no redemption for a traitor, Peter! I'm trapped, wandering the world as a spirit who can find no rest; because of you!" His face twisted into an expression of such intense hatred that suddenly Peter knew. This was not his brother. Never had Edmund looked at anything with such and evil look. Even in the terrible days before he betrayed them to the Witch he had never looked at his brother with hatred. Hurt yes, confusion, anger and a haunting sense of betrayal, but never unbridled hate. Blinking back tears Peter pushed past the apparition and found himself alone in darkness.

But not quite alone he found; somewhere to his left a light flared suddenly as if someone had struck a piece of flint and scattered sparks onto dry wood. He blinked and found himself once more facing Edmund from across an underground cave. "Is this a dream?"

Edmund smiled sadly. His face was bruised and blood ran slowly from a cut above his eyes. "Yes, it is, but it's also true. We're both dreaming."

"What happened? The Witch, I remember the Witch." Suddenly his previous dreams, which now seemed like reality flooded back to him. "Edmund, what have you done?" He demanded in horror. "You told the Witch where to find her wand!"

Edmund bowed his head in shame. "I know. She was going to kill you; what did you expect me to do? That's why you have to wake up. You have to warn the girls and find a way to stop her. I'm sorry, Peter, but whatever happens you must live. You're the High King, Aslan chose you to protect Narnia."

"He chose both of us to protect Narnia."

"And I have betrayed Narnia twice now, both for selfish reasons. The first because the Witch promised me everything I thought I wanted and the second because I could not watch my brother die. Peter, forgive me."

Peter tried to answer him but found himself being swept upwards in a whirlwind of light. "You're waking up now," Edmund called faintly. "Remember, Peter! Forgive me for the wrong I have done." And then Edmund and the cave were gone and Peter opened his eyes to find Lucy and Susan hovering anxiously over him.

 **So Peter is awake; or is he? Find out in the next update. Leave me a review and tell me if you think he's really awake this time. I'm interested to see your predictions. Also, poor Edmund, right?**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	6. Sword and Shield

**Well, here I am again! Daily updates, Whoo hoo! Also, once again the longest chapter yet, and I already have the next chapter written, I just need to edit it. That being said this one has been edited only minimally, so please pardon any errors. Shout out to my readers, is anyone interested in beta reading for me? PM me if you want to, I desperately need a second pair of eyes to check my stupid!**

Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, knew himself to be a traitor. He had known it for years; it was a part of his identity which could be deeply buried but never forgotten. He had sworn though, when he was crowned king by Aslan, that he would never act as a traitor again. He had broken that oath and he knew it. He betrayed all Narnia by telling the Witch where to find her shattered wand. But, he knew too that the other choice would have made him no less a traitor. If he had resisted her, refused to give her the information she desired Narnia would have lost her High King, her golden sword. With Peter free Narnia stood a chance against whatever horrors the Witch had in store.

He opened his eyes cautiously and found that he was alone in the underground prison. His head was pounding in rhythm with the pulse of blood through his veins and his vision blurred alarmingly when he tried to breathe. Belatedly he realized that the vines binding him were slowly tightening around his chest, worsening the shortness of breath his illness caused. Falling into unconsciousness from which he would not wake was inevitable at some point and it strangely did not trouble him. He had made his peace with death when his final bargain with the Witch was sealed.

Edmund did not know for how many days he dreamed and woke only to dream again. At first, waking he remembered little of his dreams but as time passed they became more vivid and seemed more real, even as his own strength waned. The two cloaked figures brought him water at infrequent intervals but the Witch did not reappear and Edmund could almost hope that he had dreamt her return. At last came a time when a terrible crashing of weapons jarred him back to wakefulness.

Swords rang against shields and the cries of the wounded and dying rose above the din and above it all came a battle cry Edmund knew all too well. _Peter._ And suddenly, impossibly his brother was there, his sword and armour stained with blood and a look of such fury on his face that Edmund felt sure even a Northern giant would cower before him. Then, terribly the Witch was there, her eyes murderously bright and her mended wand glowing in her hand. Edmund tried desperately to call out in warning but his voice caught in his throat and was no more than a whisper.

Peter froze, suddenly unable to move as stone slowly spread outward from where the Witch's wand struck him. His eyes focused briefly on Edmund and slowly, as if it caused him pain, he spoke the words Edmund always feared most to hear from him. "This is your fault, Edmund. This is all happening because you betrayed us." Then he was still, his stone face set in an eternal expression of hate as he stared down at his brother. The Witch laughed and Edmund woke, calling out for Peter to forgive him.

The Witch was still there but the stone statue of Peter was gone and the Witch no longer held her wand in her hands. Edmund realized gratefully that he had been dreaming again. _Thank Aslan._ Her eyes, however, still gleamed murderously and her voice was dangerously soft when she spoke.

"So, Edmund, it seems my wand is not where you told me it would be." She knelt and gripped his chin with one ice cold hand, forcing him to look her in the face. Her skin was so cold it seemed to burn him. "Have you lied to me, little king? You should know that if you have done so your brother's life is forfeit."

"I didn't lie." His voice rasped from disuse. "Peter must have gotten there first."

She struck him hard across the face with the back of her hand and his vision flashed red and black. "Foolish boy! No matter, you may yet be of use to me. Know this; I will reclaim my wand from your dear siblings and then I will kill them. You will watch them die for your treachery."

Edmund smiled and tasted blood as the movement pulled at his split lip. "Aslan will not allow you to kill those he has chosen, Witch. He defeated you once before."

"And where is your precious lion, hmm? Where was he when I was resurrected from the Earth? Where was he when I captured not one, but both of Narnia's kings? Where was Aslan when you betrayed all Narnia for your brother's life?"

Edmund remained silent, though the Witch's words disturbed him. She was right, Aslan was strangely absent in their time of need. Immediately he felt ashamed by his doubt, but the Witch had seen his uncertainty and she smiled in victory.

"He cannot save you this time, Edmund; no one can. Narnia will perish and Aslan will not come to her aid, or to yours. Guards!" The cloaked figures slithered slowly into view, hissing slightly from beneath their hoods. "Take our guest back to the pass. Edmund should be with his family when I kill them."

The vines holding him suddenly drew away and Edmund found himself falling forward onto the rough floor. His limbs were numb and unresponsive and he could do nothing to resist when rough, scaly hands gripped his arms and dragged him to his feet. His legs would not support his weight and the two creatures resorted to half dragging and half carrying him up a sloping passageway. A few moments later he found himself being lifted up a makeshift ladder and thrown out of the cave into the blinding sunlight and the frigid mountain pass.

He lay for several minutes, too weak to move, too weak to do much more than breathe, slowly filling his aching lungs with the cold, crisp air. He knew that if he did not move soon, to find dry shelter away from the deeply drifted snow, then he would lie there until his blood froze in his veins. Slowly and with agonizing difficulty, for his muscles were cramped and his limbs were shaking, he forced himself into a sitting position and from there he stood. His knees buckled and Edmund found himself once more nearly face down in the snow. He struggled to his knees and began to crawl.

Every foot of progress seemed long as a league and many times Edmund nearly despaired, but one thought solidified in his mind and bolstered his will to survive. _Peter, Susan, Lucy; I have to get back to them. I have to protect them._ At last he managed to stand with the aid of a fallen pine branch and, though his legs shook and he stumbled and fell often, his progress towards the north became more noticeable. The sun was sinking slowly in the West when at last he heard a familiar shout in the distance and raised his weary head to see Peter and a troupe of warriors galloping towards him. Edmund smiled silent thanks and fell, senseless, into the snow.

* * *

 _Several Days Before:_

"Peter?" Susan was almost wary of her older brother now. He seemed to have aged in the short time of his disappearance and his eyes were haunted with shadows of things he would not speak of. He turned to look at her with such a blank expression that, for a moment, she scarcely recognized him. "Orieus is back with-with the Witch's wand."

He nodded shortly. "Good. Tell him to bring it to me." He turned back to the window, gazing South as he had ever since the day he awoke.

"Peter?" Susan felt it would have been inestimably better if Lucy were the one to speak to their brother, but Lucy had refused to emerge from her room after Peter told them what had befallen Edmund.

"Yes?" He did not even turn to look at her this time and his voice was a devoid of expression as his face. "What is it?"

"It isn't your fault. Edmund made his own choice."

"He told the Witch where to find her wand to save me. Then he helped me wake up so that I could save Narnia. Edmund sacrificed himself to save all of us, again." His voice was still flat but Susan though she saw a single tear slid down his face and splash unheeded across his clasped hands.

"I know Peter. He's Edmund; he will always choose others over himself."

"I haven't told you the worst of it. I spoke to him, while I was asleep, but it wasn't a dream, not exactly at least. It was real. He told me he chose to save me because he was still selfish, still a traitor. A traitor because he told the Witch where to find her wand and selfish because he could not watch me die. If we save Narnia from whatever danger awaits us it will be because of Edmund, and yet he believes himself to be a traitor." His voice broke on the last word.

Susan sat on the window seat beside him and followed his gaze to the distant mountains. "Peter, do you know what our army says about you and Edmund? They say you are Narnia's sword, striking down our enemies and fighting away the dangers that threaten us. They say Edmund is Narnia's shield. He is the quiet protector who takes the enemies' blows himself so others can drive the danger back. I believe they are mostly right, but Edmund isn't only Narnia's shield; above all he is yours. He would give his life to protect you because for Edmund you are as much Narnia as Aslan is or the land itself is."

"I know that, Susan," Peter snapped. "Is there a point to this?"

Susan sighed and rubbed her temples wearily. "Yes, brother dear, there is a point, and it is this. Edmund doesn't see himself as necessary to Narnia's survival; he doesn't see himself as useful. A shield is not what strikes the killing blow upon an enemy. A shield is what allows the blow to be struck, but Edmund doesn't realize that. He sees himself as expendable, and, when he cannot protect either you or Narnia, he sees himself as a traitor for failing in his purpose."

Peter blinked slowly. "Without Edmund, we would have lost to the Witch the first time, without Edmund we would have been at war with Calormen these five years; without Edmund, we would all be lost. How can he not see what is so plain to the rest of us?"

Susan shook her head. "I do not know, but it is we who must make him see that. I believe if we ever can then Edmund will never believe himself to be traitor again."

"We have to get him back first."

"We will; that is what the Sword of Narnia is for." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I will send Orieus to you, then I must speak with Lucy. Our Valiant Queen has been plagued by guilt long enough. I do not doubt that she will insist upon accompanying you."

Peter smiled wanly. "Susan, when did you become so wise?"

The Gentle Queen laughed. "Not wise, dear brother, merely accustomed to mothering a pair of troublesome kings and a dangerously valiant queen." She departed in a swirl of skirts and was gone, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.

 _A sword and a shield,_ it was a fair comparison, but Peter found it troubled him as well. ' _He is the quiet protector who takes the enemies' blows himself so others can drive the danger back,'_ Susan had said and that was what troubled Peter most. _Eventually even the strongest shield is struck so great a blow that it cannot be mended. Please Aslan, let that day not be for many years to come._ The High King wiped the tears from his face and rose to greet his general. Whether Aslan had heard him or not Peter was determined that day had not yet come. Edmund would be saved, or Peter would give his own life in the attempt. Edmund would be saved, and not only from the Witch, but above all from himself.

 **At least Edmund is free, right? Is he? what do you think? Also, what did you all think of Peter and Susan's conversation? I must say I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but hopefully it represents the idea well enough.**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**

 **P.S. I had not read the amazing Elecktrum's stories until several days after this chapter was written so any similarity between my idea of Peter and Edmund as Narnia's sword and shield is purely coincidental. Hopefully I haven't offended any one by using it here. :-)**


	7. A Desperate Delay

**Here we go! The next chapter is almost done as well, so there will be another update very soon. Honestly, I don't know how this story is going to end. I had one ending planned out and drafted and the the plot kind of developed a mind of its own...so, yeah. I guess we'll see! Once again, apologies for any grammatical errors, omitted words, etc. I am planning on revising all chapters at a later date and have already gone back to revise the previous chapters. Any one interested in beta reading for me?**

The message that came from King Lune was desperate and, reading it, Peter felt his heart sink.

 _To Peter, By the Grace of Aslan, High King of all Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion; Greetings._

 _The news of your return to your royal sisters brought great joy to my heart, though I wept to hear that his majesty King Edmund the Just has not yet been returned to your side. It is with a heavy heart that I beg you attend us at Anvard with all speed. The ambassador of the Tisroc (how long can he be expected to live?), has seen it as a personal affront to his master that neither Narnian king has seen fit to attend these negotiations. His anger will not be calmed by any word or deed of mine and nothing will compel him to delay in drafting a declaration of war against Narnia, save your presence, or that of your royal brother._

 _I cry your pardon, High King, that I must be the bearer of such tidings when above all you must desire to search for your brother, but I would beg that you come at once._

 _By the hand of your faithful friend, Lune, King of Archenland and Lord of Anvard._

Peter cursed and crumpled the parchment between his hands. Edmund or Narnia; his brother or his kingdom. Edmund had been faced with the same choice and chosen his brother, but Edmund was not High King.

"Orieus?" The centaur bowed.

"Yes, your majesty?"  
"Ready my horse." Peter squared his shoulders. "We ride for Anvard. Send eagles to scout ahead, we cannot travel by the main pass."

Orieus shifted his great hooves uneasily. "High King, what of your brother? If you must ride for Anvard in all haste then certainly Queen Lucy may search for King Edmund."

"No, that I will not allow. Leave orders for her majesty the Queen to be confined in her chambers if she attempts to leave. I will not risk the life of my sister as well as that of my brother." Peter hated himself for the words even as he said them. _Edmund, I'm sorry._ Orieus bowed his head solemnly, but Peter knew his general well enough to know there was sadness in his eyes.

"As you say, my king." As Orieus departed Peter sank back onto his throne and rested his aching head in his hands. Susan found him there and silently embraced him, offering no judgement though her eyes were red from weeping.

"I have to, Su," Peter mumbled wretchedly. "I have to choose Narnia, though it breaks my heart to abandon one who has never abandoned me."

Susan nodded. "I know. You might have let Lucy or I go after him though." There was no judgement in words and that made them sting all the more.

"If I am to lose Edmund I will not lose you and Lucy as well. I will go myself once I have appeased this accursed Calormen with his threats of war." He shook his head and stood. "Forgive me, sister, I have wronged all whom I hold dear this day."

Susan kissed his cheek gently. "Lucy will understand in time; Edmund would have counseled you to do the same and will hold no anger towards you." The silent, _if he yet lives,_ hung heavily in the air between them as Peter took his leave.

The sun was low in the sky when at last his guards began to climb the rougher trail to a little used pass west of the main road to Archenland. Peter cursed the necessary delay caused by avoiding whatever trap had been set on the main pass. The detour cost them precious hours and if they were to reach Anvard the next day in time to prevent war they must travel through the night with little rest.

One last time Peter turned his despairing eyes to the East. _Aslan, why have you abandoned us? Are we not your chosen kings; was it not by your grace that we first came into Narnia? Why have you turned from your faithful?_ But if the Lion heard him there was no answer and Peter turned away from the East and set his eyes Southward. Every step his horse took towards Anvard was a step further from Edmund.

 _Forgive me brother, for the wrong I have done you._ He knew what Edmund would say, knew how his brother would brush the apology away with his quiet smile. Edmund would tell him it was necessary and just that he prevent war and protect Narnia above all else. Edmund would forgive him without question; he would forgive him to humour him for Edmund would see no wrong in what Peter had done. But Edmund was not there and no absolution came to Narnia's High King.

* * *

The Calormen ambassador was a short man, with clever, hawk-like eyes and a hooked nose which resembled nothing more than a beak. Peter hated him on sight. The little man bowed and wrung his hands and offered a thousand profuse apologies for begging the High King's attendance in a time of such crisis for Narnia and her people. He had, or so he said, been acting only on the orders of his most gracious and terrible master, the Tisroc, may he live forever, etc. etc.

It was with difficulty that Peter restrained himself from drawing his sword and beheading the Calormen where he stood. _It will profit you nothing and lose you far more to do so,_ Edmund's voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

The council dragged on for two days and every hour that passed left Peter more frustrated with the slowness of the proceedings. The Calormen seemed determined to prolong every simple negotiation into a painful diplomatic ordeal. By the end of the second day Peter could take no more. He stood, towering over the shorter man, and the ambassador's flowery words trailed into silence.

"Most honoured guest and ambassador, I ask your pardon for my interruption." Peter kept his voice level, imitating as best he could Edmund's manner in similar situations. "This meeting must now be at an end. We have settled all matters to our mutual satisfaction and anything further there is to be said is merely superfluous."

"My most eloquent lord, hath not one of the poets said 'They who run quickly must surely stumble'? I fear that if we are to conclude in haste the treaty between our two fair countries we have lately forged will not stand the inspection of our most learned lawmakers in Tashbaan."

"Ambassador, allow me to plainly speak my mind. The treaty between our two nations will not survive the day if I am forced to tarry in such needless proceedings even so much as one hour longer. Myself and my royal sisters will consider it an act of war upon Narnia if you prevent me any longer from riding in search of my royal brother. I was summoned to Anvard to preside over the signing of a treaty betwixt Narnia, Archenland and Calormen; the treaty is well signed. I take my leave of you now." Peter waited, hoping the Calormen would not be willing to follow through on his earlier threat. It was one thing if he could return to the Tisroc, may a curse fall upon his house, with tidings of being slighted by Narnia's kings; it was another if he must return bearing news that he himself had provoked war.

The ambassador bowed his head. "As you say, most royal and fearsome king. Hath not one of the poets also said 'He who dares stand before the wrath of a king dares too much'? I will personally see to it that the treaty we have forged within this council chamber is proclaimed through all of Calormen."

Peter nodded briefly and swept past him, out of the dark council chamber and into the muted evening light. He called for his guards and his horse and would have utterly forgotten his duty to his host had not King Lune followed him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"King Peter, I thank you for the aid you have rendered me these two days, but I beseech you, do not leave in such haste. You are weary and the light is nearly gone. Stay with us tonight and seek your brother tomorrow for it will be bitter cold in the high mountains." The elder king's face was grave and it heartened Peter to see his care.

"My good King, though you have often been as a father to me I cannot heed your words this time. Somewhere in those peaks lies my brother, left to die by those he loves. I cannot, in good conscience tarry a moment more than is necessary for peace in Narnia." He clasped Lune's hand tightly in friendship and the older man embraced him suddenly.

"May Aslan watch over you, Peter, and may he return your brother to you unharmed."

Peter turned away before Lune could see the sudden flash of anger in his eyes. _Aslan hears no prayers from us these days, or if he does he chooses not to answer them._

Peter and his guards traveled swiftly through the darkening evening, their faces grim as they turned their steps towards the pass. _I'm coming Edmund, I promise._

* * *

 _Sometime Later_ :

The numbing cold of the snow and the mountain air was gone, replaced by the warmth of a gentle summer sun. Edmund walked along the edge of a sandy beach, his bare feet leaving footprints in the sand to be quickly washed away by the gentle waves. He looked to his left, towards the sea and saw, imprinted so deeply into the sand that the waves had yet to obscure them, the pawprints of some Great Cat. Looking further ahead he saw upon the beach, between him and the water, the towering figure of a Lion; The Lion, Aslan, High King over all kings in Narnia.

Edmund reached him and knelt at his feet and Aslan bent and rested his magnificent golden head upon Edmund's bowed head. "Rise, Edmund, King of Narnia." The Lion spoke so gently that Edmund wanted only to throw his arms about Aslan's neck and bury his face in the golden mane, but he did not and neither did he rise.

"Aslan, forgive me, I am not worthy to be called king. I have betrayed the country you gave me governance of, not once but twice." He thought he heard a faint growl from the Lion.

"Edmund, do you question My wisdom child? Do you question My choice? It is I who placed you upon the throne of Narnia and it is I and only I who can take you from it. You have served me well and will serve me well for many years to come, either as King of Narnia or in some other way yet to be shown. I bid you rise, King, would you dare to twice refuse me?" Though His voice was filled with kindness it was also terrible and held a command which could not be argued.

Edmund rose to his feet though his legs shook and he could not meet the Lion's eyes. "No, Aslan, I do not dare. I do not question your choice, merely my worthiness of the trust you placed with me."

"My child, what you have done is well done. Now hear this, you have faced many perils and will face still more before you are free of them. But do not despair, for dawn comes even after the darkest night. Have courage, dear one, for though you may not see Me, for though your prayers may seem to be unanswered, I will always be with you. I walk beside you when you have strength to walk and when you falter it is I who carry you; trust in Me." His breath ruffled Edmund's hair and filled the young king with warmth and peace and then Edmund slept and dreamed no more.

When he woke it was to sunlight and the golden glint of Lucy's hair as she dozed in the chair next to his bed.

 **Sorry CoffeeRanger! I know, once again a reunion was so close, and then the chapter just ended. I'll get to the upcoming reunion next time; promise. Please review!**

 **Also, the sayings the Calormen ambassador quotes are actually paraphrases of Shakespeare.**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	8. King's Bane

**I apologise; I don't like this chapter and it's very frustrating, but it's all I can write right now. That's all I have to say for myself.**

Sunlight and golden hair; Lucy. The blankets surrounding him were warm but somewhere in his bones he still felt the chill of snow and mountain air. He stared, only half seeing, at the blurred face of his sister and could only find strength to voice a single word. "Peter?"

Lucy shook her head, at least it seemed so to his blurred vision. "He rode out again, hunting the Witch and her creatures."

Peter had found him, carried him home, and left before he could wake. _He would not want to face a traitor._ But somewhere in his mind a Lion roared and Edmund shook his head. _No, he would not want to leave Narnia unprotected._

"Edmund?" But he was already drifting back into the welcoming arms of peaceful sleep.

When next he woke, Susan had replaced Lucy at his bedside. The Gentle Queen smiled when she saw his eyes open and Edmund forced his stiff lips to move in response. "Susan?" His throat was dry and he coughed painfully.

"It's okay, you're back at Cair Paravel. You're safe now brother." But when she smiled it did not reach the darkness in her eyes.

"What is it?" He pushed himself up against the pillows and tried to clear his muddled brain. "What aren't you telling me, Susan?"

She shook her head hesitantly. "Just rest, you're still weak as a kitten. When Peter found you-" her voice broke and after several long breaths she seemed to compose herself. "You were half frozen when they found you and you wouldn't wake. Between your being sick already and nearly freezing to death we thought we had lost you. Even Lucy's cordial didn't seem to work." She ruffled a hand through his hair.

"Don't avoid the question, Susan. I haven't had my wits frozen out of me yet. What has Peter done?"

"He rode out after the Witch, almost as soon as he brought you back; I've never seen him so angry. I'm afraid for him; he always acts so recklessly when he's in a rage. If only you could be there for him." Edmund shivered despite the blankets and guilt flashed briefly across Susan's face. "I'm sorry, Ed, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried for him. Please, try to get some rest."

Edmund stared after her, his head spinning with exhaustion, despite having just woken up. He was missing something, something important, but he was so tired. Perhaps it didn't matter so much; he was home, he was safe, and whatever it was could surely wait. If only Peter had the good sense not to fly into a rage and place himself in unnecessary danger. _Susan's right; I should be there for him._ But try as he might, Edmund could find no strength to stand, let alone go to his brother's aid.

"Peace, dear one," Aslan told him as they once more stood upon the beach. "Your brother is safe; no harm shall come to him this day. But you must listen carefully to what I now tell you. In the library, you will find a book which has no title, and which appears on first inspection to be blank. Place that book upon a bed of burning coals and then read the passage entitled _King's Bane_ ; once you have read it you must act quickly. And now, Edmund Pevensie; there are three here in Narnia whom you fear above all others. Who are they?"

Edmund stared at The Lion in confusion. "I-I don't understand, Aslan."

Aslan growled softly. "Edmund, you must know what is in your heart. Who do you fear above all others?"

"The Witch," Edmund admitted hesitantly, though he dropped his eyes in shame as he said it.

"Very good; you fear that which is evil and which seeks to destroy. Who else?"

Edmund recalled his first days in Narnia and felt his cheeks burn. "Myself," he said at last, his voice barely audible, even to himself. "I fear what I have been and what I may yet be again."

The Lion bent His head and looked straight into Edmund's eyes, then, in a voice that was impossibly gentle, he asked; "Who else do you fear, Son of Adam?"

"You, Aslan?" but even Edmund knew it was not the right answer.

The Lion shook His golden mane and laughed. "No, Edmund, fear is not the same as love and respect, though often they go hand in hand. You will know, very soon now, whom it is I speak of. When you know, I will show you the way. Now, rest, for you are yet weary, and will be called upon to act soon enough."

Edmund wanted desperately to stay on the beach with Aslan, but already the golden figure was growing smaller as if it were being pulled away from him at a great speed. For a moment, he struggled to go back and then a great feeling of peace swept over him and for a time he seemed to float in a gentle darkness.

* * *

The next time he woke it was to a deafening crash. His eyes flew open to darkness and for one, terrible moment he thought he was back in the Witch's cave. Then a candle flared to life and he realized he was in his own bed at Cair Paravel and it was night. Peter set the candle on the table beside Edmund's bed and bent to retrieve the goblet he had knocked to the floor in the dark. He turned, suddenly aware of Edmund watching him and smiled wearily.

"I didn't mean to wake you. The girls said you were recovering; I just got back." Something about his voice sounded strange, but with his face hidden in shadow Edmund could not identify what it was.

"What happened?" his own voice was so hoarse that it sounded foreign to him. Peter silently refilled the goblet with water and helped him drink when his hand shook too badly to hold it.

"Nothing," he said at last. "Nothing unless you count fighting the Witch and losing to her. She ambushed us in the mountains." He fell silent and Edmund waiting, sensing there was more. "Orieus is dead." His voice was flat when he spoke at last. "He died allowing me to escape. I acted recklessly and it cost him his life."

 _No. Aslan, no, not Orieus._ "Peter-"

"Don't Ed, just don't." And at last Edmund recognized the emotion clouding his brother's voice. He had expected it to be grief or even guilt, but it was stronger and harsher; anger, rage, pure, unbridled hate, but directed at who or what Edmund could not tell. _The Witch? Himself? Me?_

"I'm sorry," the words were terribly insufficient to express the flood of grief and guilt Edmund felt and he knew it. Orieus was gone; Orieus who had rescued him from the Witch's camp all those long years ago and carried him safely to his family. Orieus who took two clumsy, foolhardy boys and molded them into kings and warrior. Orieus who died as he had lived. to protect his kings; to the death. There were no words adequate to express the loss of such a noble and brave friend.

Peter shook his head and sank into the chair beside Edmund's bed. "This should never have happened. I should have acted more rationally; I should have known it was folly to take such a small force with me against the Witch. And you," he turned to Edmund then, his eyes burning with grief and anger. "You should never have come after me. You should never have made such a bargain with the Witch for my life." _You should never have become a traitor._ The words were unspoken, but they were there in the air. "You told me that you saved me because you were selfish; you must learn to think of Narnia first and foremost."

 _Peter; no, Aslan, you can't mean Peter._ But Edmund knew; it was Peter he feared. He feared Peter's judgement of his failings, feared the loss of his love and trust, and above all he had feared that one day he would see in Peter's eyes were he now saw there; blame.

Then Peter smiled. "Sorry Ed, I know you did what you thought best for Narnia and for me. It is more to my blame than yours. Get some sleep, we'll talk more tomorrow." He blew out the candle and Edmund heard his footsteps fade before he released the breath he had been holding. _The library; the book._ He knew now what Aslan had told him he must and it was time to trust in Him.

He stood unsteady and relit the candle with shaking hands, silently thanking Susan for arranging that his rooms be so near the library. He doubted he could remain on his feet long enough to reach it otherwise.

The hallways were empty, which seemed strange; there were always guards, but now the Cair seemed deserted. Edmund was grateful for it; guards would have tried to send him back to bed, would have woken his sisters or summoned Peter and when he stumbled, which was often, he was glad no one was there to see it.

The library too was deserted and Edmund sank gratefully into the nearest chair, resting for a moment before beginning his search. Aslan had given him no clue as to the book's location and the library consisted of three joined rooms, lined with floor to ceiling with shelves of books. It seemed an impossible task. _Aslan, help me, please._ He looked down at the desk next to his chair and saw a small, black book, whose cover was completely blank. When he opened it the pages too were unmarked and he breathed a prayer of thanks to Aslan.

A fire was burning slowly to ashes in the fireplace and he uncovered the bed of glowing coals and laid the book among them. Slowly, as the heat spread through the book a title appeared, etched in gold. Edmund picked it up cautiously, but found the book as cool as if it had never been near the fire.

 _King's Bane_ , the title on the cover read and when he opened it again the pages were lined with a closely written, fine script. He drew his chair nearer the fireplace, lit another candle, and then began to read.

The first pages told the story of a king, who had lived long before the time of the Witch and her Hundred Year Winter. While exploring the mountains, near Stormness Head and the pass to Anvard, he and his courtiers had vanished with no trace. Riding out after him his son too disappeared from the land. The son returned some days later, exceedingly weak from hunger and cold, and raving about a strange herb which destroyed those things which all men fear.

 _A great troupe rode out to discover the source of their prince's raving, and found to their horror the body of their king, dead in the snow. One of their number, a faun by the name of Creon, a great physician and learned in the arts of magic, discovered the hidden entrance to a cave. Within the cave he found the roots of great trees, though they grew where no trees stood upon the surface, and from the roots came twisted vines, which sought to entrap him._

 _Creon drew his sword and tried to cut the vines from about his legs, but found that the steel did them no harm. He fell into a deep sleep and his dreams were filled with terror. He saw before him the dragon who had slain his father and the beast, brought back to life by his terror threatened death to all who he loved. But Creon was not of noble blood and, power hungry as the vines were, they saw no use for him and freed him._

 _When he returned to the rest of the troupe they believed him not, but the face of the prince grew ashen and he told the story of his own encounter._

The book continued to describe how, upon awaking in the cave, the prince had seen his father standing before him. He feared the king his father, even as he loved him, and the king spoke to him in words which troubled the prince greatly. The vines released him and the king attacked his son with a hatred he had never before displayed. The prince, in his terror, threw his father to the floor and the king broke his neck upon the stones.

 _So it was, that this most evil plant set two who loved each other against each other and destroyed two kings in a single day. The courtiers called the strange vine King's Bane and avoided the pass for many years._

 _Creon returned to the cave however, and studied the plant through use of his magic. After many years he devised an understanding of how it chose its victims and how, if ever, one could be free of it._

 _King's Bane will entrap any who dare venture near its lair without care for what lies beneath the ground, but it releases all save those with noble blood or status. Of those it takes, none can escape it without causing dire harm to themselves or those they love, save if they conquer their fear, or if their fears will more easily torment them by their freedom._

 _The most fearsome aspect of this plant's poison is its ability to trap the unfortunate victim in a dream word from which there is no escape, save to kill the source of the fear within the dream, or if the vine chooses to release them._

Edmund rubbed his eyes wearily; there was more written but he did not have the heart to read it. He stared into the dying embers of the fire and desperately tried to understand all he had read. He was free; that meant the King's Bane deemed his fears more easily carried out in the waking world. Did that also mean the Witch was a mere illusion, conjured by his fear of her? But Peter had seen her too; unless none of it was real. Unless he was still dreaming in the cave with the King's Bane slowly draining the life from his body and driving him to madness.

If he was still dreaming then he had to kill the source of his fear. _Peter._ He did not think about the Witch or himself; it was Peter he worried for. If it was real, if he was awake, then he would have killed his brother.

A Lion growled. For a moment Aslan stared back at him from the fire; His eyes glowing coals. "Edmund! Trust in me; you must face your fear. Your brother also was effected by the King's Bane. If you do not defeat it then your brother too will be lost."

Edmund blinked and Aslan was gone. _I have to kill Peter._ But he trusted in Aslan with all his heart and that strengthened his resolve. _It won't really be Peter. It's just an illusion; the things about Peter that I fear most somehow turning us against each other. That doesn't make it any easier._

 **Well…okay, that was long, largely explanatory and most likely unsatisfying. I know, I know, it keeps getting more confusing. Next chapter will see the two storylines tie together very nicely, we will find out once and for all what is real, and hopefully in the chapter after that there will be the beginning of a resolution. If you're still reading by the end of this chapter then I salute you for your patience! Please leave me a review, even if you hated it!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	9. The Dream Shattered

**Here we go! Everything begins to come together in this chapter though most explanations will be in the following chapter. I haven't done a disclaimer in awhile, sadly that does not mean I have suddenly inherited the Lewis estate. I'm still just a fanfiction writer with a laptop.**

 _Now:_

Peter shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders; the night air was bitter cold this high into the pass. They were traveling far more slowly than he liked, but he understood Orieus' caution against rushing ahead. No one knew quite where the hidden trap would spring and if they stumbled upon it unawares they too would become trapped and be of no help to Edmund.

They had almost reached the top of the pass when Orieus halted, and signaled a warning to Peter. Peter followed the centaur's gaze and saw the dim outline of a horse and rider against the sky. They stood, silently, at the very top of the pass and seemed to be watching Peter's troupe, though neither horse nor rider made any move to attack or flee. Peter drew his sword and nudged his horse forward, cautious of some trap, but nothing happened. The ground beneath his horse's hooves remained solid and no more horses galloped from out of the night to attack him.

As he neared the figure he saw that it was a very small, slender person, wrapped in a dark cloak with the hood pulled up to hide their face. They made no move to avoid him as he approached and the closer he drew the more familiar the horse appeared. It was Philip. Peter's first thought was one of joy. _Ed!_ But Philip's rider was too short to be his brother and suddenly he felt a rush of anger. He was quite near to them now; near enough to reach out and pull the hood from the other rider's head. Lucy smiled innocently up at him, the moonlight glinting off her golden hair.

Peter glared at her, trying desperately to control his temper. "What have you done, Lucy? What of the guards and their orders to confine you within Cair Paravel?"

Still Lucy smiled. "I climbed down the castle wall and slipped into the stables to find Philip. Really Peter, had you forgotten how Edmund and I used to slip away and climb the cliffs near Cair Paravel? As I recall neither you or Susan were altogether pleased when you found out."

Peter sighed, suddenly weary and sheathed his sword. "Go home, Lu," but his anger had faded and she knew there was no force behind the order.

"But I found it! I found the entrance to the cave; I don't think it's the same one you fell into, but this one is safer." Lucy's eyes were sparkling; she seemed filled with some intense light, far different from the guilty shadow of herself Peter had last seen at Cair Paravel. "Aslan showed me how to find it."

Peter shook his head and turned back to Orieus, who was slowly leading the rest of his guards up the last few yards of the pass to meet them. Orieus bowed to Lucy, but seemed unsurprised by her presence. Peter realised then that while he wasn't pleased by Lucy's recklessness it did not surprise him either; he could not have realistically expected the Valiant Queen to remain behind.

"Lucy, show Orieus what you've found, we'll send scouts to determine if the entrance is safe."

Lucy frowned at him. "It is; Aslan showed it to me Himself. He led me this far safely; won't you trust Him to lead us to Edmund?"

Peter found he could not meet her eyes. _All these days I have been praying to Aslan and He has not answered, but He leads Lucy where she needs to go with no such pleading._ "Very well Lucy, lead on." He scowled at Philip who had so far remained strangely silent. "Well Philip, what have you to say for yourself? You have disobeyed my direct order to remain behind and have aided Queen Lucy in disobeying my order to her."

Philip hung his head. "Forgive me, King Peter, I am loyal to you and would ever disobey your orders save in the most dire of circumstances." He stamped his hooves uneasily. "But, if you will forgive me for saying it, my first loyalty is to Aslan, and second to my King Edmund. I could not remain behind while he was in danger and my good Queen Lucy assured me that Aslan had spoken to her and was sending her in search of her brother."

Peter nodded, unsurprised. He knew the loyalty Philip felt towards Edmund would always exceed that he owed Peter as High King, but again the mention of Aslan annoyed him. "Well then, we might as well continue on with this foolish enterprise."

They followed Philip and Lucy to the edge of the road until it seemed they would walk straight into the side of the mountain. At the last moment Peter saw a particularly large boulder which seemed to have fallen from the peak and behind it a faint glimmer of light. A small entrance to an underground passageway lay behind the boulder. Lucy and Peter had to dismount to keep from hitting their heads on the low stone ceiling and Orieus had to stoop and shuffle along clumsily in a perpetual bow.

The passageway was dreadfully cramped and lit only dimly by a pair of smoking torches just inside the entrance. Their progress was very slow, for every few steps the passageway twisted off in a new direction and they had to back up slightly so that Orieus and the horses had space to turn. Peter hated to think what would happen if they were attacked by a group of smaller creatures in such a cramped space; he did not even have room to draw his sword.

At last the passageway opened into a larger room which Peter immediately recognized as the cave where he had awoken to speak with Edmund. He briefly saw his brother across the torchlit space; he appeared to still be sleeping, but before Peter could take another step towards him two dark cloaked figures stepped forward and barred their way.

"Trespassers!" The taller one hissed. "You have come to destroy our mistress, we will not allow it!" They drew long, curved daggers from somewhere within their black robes. Peter nodded grimly to Orieus and Lucy and drew his sword.

"For Edmund."

* * *

Edmund did not know how long he sat there, staring into the dying coals and trying not to think about what he must do. Surely there must be another way, even in a dream he could not face killing Peter. _And if this isn't a dream? What then? I will have fallen for some trick and killed my brother in truth. How can I know?_ Aslan had instructed him to trust, but how could he when reality blurred around him, impossibly warped and confused?

"Edmund?" It was Peter, looking exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and such an expression of desperation on his face that Edmund could not understand how he had ever doubted him to be real. "We've been looking everywhere for you." Before Edmund could speak Peter had crossed the room and embraced him. "I was a perfect beast to you last night; I'm sorry Ed."

"It's alright, Peter." _It's alright, I'm awake now. I have to be._ He smiled weakly when Peter released him. "I didn't mean to worry you, I just needed to think."

"And you couldn't think in your room?" Peter's voice changed somehow growing colder. "You had to worry everyone? Half the castle is looking for you."

"I'm sorry."

"Why can't you learn to do as you're told?" But the words were not spoken in jest as they had been often in the years of their reign. They were spoken as the Peter Edmund barely remembered, the Peter from the other place, had often spoken them. Suddenly and terribly Edmund knew; he must have known for some time, though he tried to convince himself otherwise. It wasn't real; it couldn't be. Peter had not spoken to him so harshly and with so little cause in all the years they had ruled Narnia. _But I can't, oh Aslan, I can't kill him!_

"Do you have nothing to say for yourself?" Peter asked, still in the same cold tone.

"I'm sorry." He was terribly sorry, but he wasn't quite sure what for.

"That doesn't make it better! Saying you're sorry doesn't fix anything!" Edmund saw the blow coming and knew he wasn't fast enough to avoid it. The punch caught him full on the jaw; he stumbled and fell, too weak to do much else. His vision flashed and he tasted blood. This wasn't right. Whether it was Peter or not he didn't deserve this.

"It's not my fault!" For a moment Edmund didn't realise the shouted words were his own. He stood shakily and faced his brother, suddenly confident. "It isn't my fault Peter, not this time. I didn't choose to be captured trying to rescue you. I didn't choose for the Witch to come back; I'm not the one who got Orieus killed. It isn't my fault!"

Peter's face contorted in anger and Edmund knew he was about to strike again. He waited, saw the blow coming, and did they only thing he could under the circumstances. As Peter stepped forward to strike him Edmund put out his foot and tripped him. Peter, in his rage had no time to regain his balance. His eyes widened in shock as he fell, sprawling on the stone floor. His head struck the corner of the fireplace with a terrible dull crack and he lay still.

Edmund's knees buckled and he slid to the floor, shaking. _I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to._ A slowly growing stain of blood crept outward from Peter's head and Edmund did not need to look closer to see that he was dead, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling and face fixed in an eternal expression of shock. _It isn't real. It isn't real. Peter._ Edmund buried his face in his hands and wept.

Crying was all well and good, but Edmund knew that in the end he would have to stop and decide what to do next. If it was all a dream, and he couldn't bear to think it was anything else, then he had to find the Witch next, but how? He lifted his head and wiped the drying tears from his face. Then he blinked and looked around in shock.

He was no longer sitting on the floor in the library next to his brother's body; he was back in the cave though now his hands were free and he was not bound to the tree roots. He stood, cautiously and looked around, puzzled. Then his heart felt as if it would stop beating, for the Witch stood across the cave from him and she was smiling a terrible smile.

"Edmund dear, well done!" She beckoned him to come closer and though he wanted nothing more than to resist he found he could not. His legs felt wooden and not his own as he crossed the cave to stand by her side. "I knew you would not fail me; with Peter dead, no one will dare stand before us!" She smiled again and brushed a tear from his face with her icy hand. "Why do you cry, little king? Isn't this what you wanted; to rule at my side without your brother's shadow always hanging over you?"

Edmund found his voice with difficulty. "You aren't real." But he was no longer as certain.

She laughed and it was a sound like breaking icicles; it set his teeth on edge. "Not real? Of course, I'm real. You're the one who brought me back, Edmund dear. You're the one who wanted all of Narnia for yourself."

"No; I don't. That isn't what I want!" _Aslan help me!_

"It's too late for that." The Witch's expression darkened. "You killed your brother, Edmund, you can't go back. I'm the only one you can turn to know; I'm the only one who understands you. I killed my own sister, my own people, my whole world. I understand you, little king. Do not dare to betray me again, Edmund."

 _No; this isn't real._ A knife glinted suddenly in the Witch's hand and Edmund knew then what he must do. He drew his sword even as she leapt at him, sudden hatred flaring in her eyes. It was easier than he expected for she did not try to avoid the blade as it ran her through. She laughed, once, a pained and gleeful sound before her body exploded into shards of ice. Edmund's sword dropped from his numb fingers as he slumped to the floor, the Witch's knife buried to the hilt in his chest. He was vaguely aware of the dream fading, replaced by the clashing sounds of weapons and the realisation that once again he could not move.

He struggled to open his eyes and looked down at his chest where the Witch had struck him. The knife was gone but the blood remained, soaking his shirt and staining the pale vines that bound him.

"Edmund!" It was Peter's voice; something seemed strange about that but he couldn't remember why. The cave seemed strangely crowded but he couldn't focus and darkness was creeping back across his vision. Somewhere a Lion roared, but Edmund had no strength to open his eyes.

 **So...it was almost resolved so nicely, and then it wasn't. At least two more chapters to go, please keep reading and reviewing! Reviews make my day!**


	10. The Witch and The Lion

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews; they absolutely make my day! Our story is drawing to a close very soon; this chapter sees something of a resolution, more or less...And then there will definitely be one possibly two more chapters after this. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, it feels a little rushed, but I am a little rushed today so I will post as is for now and possibly revise later.**

The two cloaked figures were surprisingly quick on their feet, or rather tails, and the cave was much too small for Peter and his guards to take full advantage of their superior numbers. Before Peter quite knew what was happening a satyr and one of the talking dogs lay on the floor, bleeding and still. The two figures slithered back, blood dripping from their daggers as they laughed from beneath their hoods. Peter ducked as one of them slashed at his throat; to his left he saw Orieus lash out with his front hooves, catching the other figure in the chest and throwing him back against the wall.

But the two cloaked figures were not the only danger; the sickly coloured vines began snaking through the air, threatening to wrap around anyone not quick enough to avoid them. Peter plunged his sword into the other cloaked figure's chest and the creature shrieked and dropped, writhing to the floor. He struck out, nearly blinded by the confusion of the dim lighting and cramped quarters. His sword struck the vines which tried to snare him but seemed to do them no harm. The force of the blow numbed his arm and nothing else seemed to happen.

Briefly, through the chaos, he saw Edmund stir. His brother opened his eyes, blinking at the confusion before his face clouded with pain. Peter thought he could see blood staining his brother's shirt. "Edmund!" He dodged a mass of vines, trying to make his way across the short distance that separated him from Edmund. Lucy slipped past him, small and quick enough to reach Edmund's side without mishap.

Then, everything stopped. The vines froze; seeming to lose their power of motion in a single second. Peter's guards lowered their weapons and looked about them, panting and confused. Peter himself felt a sudden tremor of fear as a deafening sound tore through the suddenly still air; it was the roar of a Lion.

He dropped to his knees when he saw Aslan, suddenly filled with shame at his doubt. The Lion bent his head and looked into Peter's eyes. "Why have you doubted Me, Son of Adam?"

"I'm sorry Aslan, when you didn't answer my prayers I thought-" Peter stared at the blank floor. "I thought you had abandoned us."

"My son, My answers to you will not always be spoken. It was I who led Lucy to this place, it was I who gave your brother strength when he was most in need of it, and it was I who have watched over you and guided your steps. Do you now trust in Me?"

Peter nodded silently, not daring to look up. "And now, Peter, your brother has need of you." Peter stood shakily, still not daring to look at Aslan and crossed the cave to kneel beside Lucy; she was crying. Edmund's face was far too pale and Peter saw that he had been right, blood stained the whole front of his brother's shirt and coated the vines that still bound him.

"Edmund?" Peter shook his shoulder. "Eddie?" Edmund blinked, eyes unfocused and stared at Peter blankly. "Come on, let's get you out of here." Peter slashed at the vines with his sword; nothing happened. He tried again, but still the vines did not break.

"Peter, just wait." It surprised him to realise it was Edmund who had spoken. "They'll let me go, just…wait a minute." He closed his eyes, breathing shallow and Peter wanted to scream in frustration.

"Lucy, the cordial, quickly!" Lucy shook her head, silent tears streaming down her face.

"I can't, Edmund made me promise to wait. They won't let him go if we heal him." Peter turned, despairing to Aslan, but the great Lion merely nodded, his eyes sad.

Edmund coughed, blood staining his lips. He opened his eyes weakly and smiled. "It's good to see you, Pete. Took you long enough." He coughed again.

"Why won't you let Lucy heal you, you idiot?" Peter was crying, and he didn't care who saw. The world beyond their desperate huddle seemed very far away and unimportant.

"Aslan told me what I must do." Edmund's voice was growing slowly weaker. "The Witch wasn't real, Pete, it's this place, the vines. They'll let me go once I'm not useful to them anymore."

 _Not useful?_ "Edmund!" Peter shook his shoulder desperately, feeling the vines begin to loosen their hold as he did so. A moment later Edmund closed his eyes, his breathing almost inaudible. Peter slashed at the vines again and again, bloodying his hands on the stones. He threw away his sword and pulled at them, trying desperately to break them. At last they crumbled in his hands, suddenly turning to dust and Peter found himself catching Edmund as his brother slumped forward with the vines no longer there to support him. He laid him on the stone floor, terror threatening to overcome him as his brother's blood soaked his hands.

"Lucy!" But Lucy was already uncapping her bottle of precious cordial. Her hands shook as tipped a few drops into Edmund's mouth. They waited, holding their breath as nothing happened. _Come on, come on, please Edmund,_ Peter begged silently and still nothing happened.

"Peter." Aslan's voice surprised him; he was so focused on Edmund that he had nearly forgotten the Lion's presence. "What do you fear most, Son of Adam?"

"Aslan, please, won't you help Edmund?" Lucy turned her tear-filled eyes towards the Lion.

Aslan growled softly. "Peace, Lucy, this is Peter's battle now. Tell me, Son of Adam, what do you fear?"

"This," Peter answered quietly as he brushed his brother's unruly hair back, listening to his breathing slowly fading. "Being too late, failing one of my siblings, failing Narnia."

"It is well answered, and now, you must let that fear go."

"I don't know how." Edmund coughed, blood running from the corner of his mouth and Peter at last felt despair replace his fear. The cordial hadn't worked; he had finally been too late. "I failed him, Aslan."

"Yes." The Lion's voice held no reprimand however. "Everyone fails those the love and this was not of your doing Peter. Let go of your fear; you can never know what would have happened if you had been here sooner, you can only know what will happen now."

"And what will happen, Aslan?" Peter was terribly aware that Edmund had stopped breathing but he could not tear his eyes away from those of the Lion. Aslan bent and touched Peter's forehead with His nose.

"That depends upon you, High King. Trust yourself not to fail."

Peter bowed his head and took a deep breath, struggling to see through his grief and hurt, to find some part of himself which was still confident and untouched by the pain he felt. He remembered the last time he had held his dying brother at the Fields of Beruna; he had believed himself to be too late that day as well, but somehow Edmund had survived. Somehow Peter had not failed. He would not fail now; he could not.

"Lucy, try the cordial again." He was surprised when his voice didn't shake; this was his last, desperate hope but suddenly he didn't feel afraid anymore. It would work; it had to.

Lucy stared at him, her eyes red. "P-Peter, he's not breathing. It didn't work."

"Just try again! Please Lucy," he added more gently. "It will work, please just try."

Choking back tears Lucy once more placed a few of the precious drops in her brother's mouth. This time the effect was almost instantaneous. Edmund coughed, half choking on the blood still filling his mouth, and took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes fluttered open and took in the worried face of his siblings and then, impossibly, he smiled.

"Why is it that you two are always hovering?" His voice was still terribly weak but it was such an Edmund thing to say that Peter almost wanted to laugh. He pulled Edmund into a fierce hug and pulled Lucy into the embrace with his other arm. They were all laughing and crying and a great cheer arose from Peter's guards when they saw that Edmund was alive. No one quite remembered afterwards when Aslan left. One moment He was there, looking down at the Kings and the Queen with great love in His golden eyes and the next He was gone.

Edmund stood shakily after a moment, with Peter's help, and stumbled across the room to the cluster of guards. Peter thought he was looking for Philip, but a moment later, to every one's astonishment, not least of all Orieus, Edmund had thrown his arms around the centaur and hugged him. Orieus gave Peter a slightly panicked look over Edmund's head as he clumsily returned the embrace.

"I'm glad you're alive, Orieus," Edmund said, looking slightly sheepish as he stepped back. "I thought you were dead while I was asleep." The centaur nodded, still looking rather confused and Peter shrugged in answer to his questioning look.

"Ed, what happened to the Witch? The guards here mentioned her I think, but no one has found her yet." Peter swore silently to himself that if the Witch was to be found he would kill her himself.

Edmund shook his head, still unsteadily. "She wasn't real."

"We both saw her." Peter found himself wondering in Edmund was still dazed from whatever dreams had haunted him. "Besides, someone wounded you."

"It was the vines, there's a book, I'll show you when we get home." He rested his head wearily against Peter's shoulder. "Speaking of home, can we please get out of here now?" The cordial may have healed the knife wound but he was still exhausted and weakened; he wanted nothing more than to return to his own room and sleep for a week, undisturbed by nightmares.

Peter exchanged a doubtful glance with Lucy. "It's a long ride back, are you sure you feel up to it?"

His brother shrugged. "I trust that between you and Philip one of you can make sure I don't fall to my death on the way home."

Philip snorted and tossed his mane. "I should say so, I'm not likely to let you out of my sight anytime soon after what happened this time. Didn't I warn you that trouble follows you wherever you go?"

Edmund stumbled often as they began the slow climb through the cramped tunnel. By the time they reached the cave entrance Peter was practically carrying him as he stumbled along, eyes half closed and his whole body shaking with fatigue. Peter nearly insisted that they turn back and wait out the rest of the night at least, but the desperation etched on Edmund's face as he struggled on silenced him. Peter knew that nothing short of unconsciousness would keep Edmund from returning home at once.

* * *

They were barely nearing the foot of the mountains when Edmund slumped forward on Philip's back and would have fallen if Peter had not been riding close enough to catch him. Cursing, Peter called for the troupe to halt as he struggled to keep Edmund from falling while keeping his own balance. It always came as a surprise when he realised that Edmund was now nearly as tall as he was himself and he could no longer support him as easily as he once could.

For a moment both brothers were dangerously close to falling and in the end, it was Orieus who kept them from disaster. The centaur lifted Edmund from Philip's back as easily as if he were still a child and carried him as he had once before on the night Edmund was rescued from the Witch's camp.

Peter thought he saw a glimmer of tears in the centaur's eyes and he realised suddenly just how much Edmund meant to their stern general. _We will talk brother, soon, and then you will at last see how much you mean to all of us._ His own eyes burned as they turned towards Cair Paravel. _Thank you, Aslan, for my brother's life. Thank you for returning Narnia's shield to us, and let no one forget his value._

 **So...Everything that's happening at this point is definitely real, hooray! That means Orieus is alive, Peter and Edmund are reunited and the Witch was essentially the physical embodiment of one of Edmund's worst fears. I promise there is some nice fluff coming up soon, so keep reading!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	11. A Tale of Two Brothers

**Here we have some brotherly fluff at last! And a very motherly Susan! There will be one more chapter after this since this one offers explanations etc, but doesn't quite resolve everything.**

"Edmund, I know you're awake." Edmund sighed in resignation and opened his eyes. He had slept most of the three days immediately following his return to Cair Paravel; waking only when Susan deemed it necessary that he eat. When the initial joy and relief of his rescue had faded somewhat he found that he used his continued weariness more as an excuse to avoid his older brother than because it necessitated sleep. Truth be told he had scarcely slept after those three days, plagued as he was by nightmares of a blood soaked and very dead Peter chasing him through the halls. So, it came as no surprise to Edmund that, after two days of being avoided, Peter had finally reached his breaking point.

Edmund forced a smile when he saw his older brother glaring at him with his arms crossed angrily. "Need something?" Peter was quite obviously neither fooled nor appeased.

"I need you to stop behaving like a child. Really Edmund, pretending to be asleep to avoid me? Are you a king or a schoolboy?" The words stung but held no real anger and Edmund knew whatever frustration Peter currently felt toward him was well deserved.

Edmund sighed again and sat up, somewhat dizzily; he wasn't about to have the approaching conversation with Peter towering over him like a storm cloud. "I know we need to talk; I just don't know where to start."

"You can start by offering a better explanation of what happened. We found the book you mentioned; it seems the Creon mentioned in it is the same one who helped me wake up, though what kind of sense that makes I can't begin to understand. I'm assuming the 'mistress' those two guards were talking about was actually the vines, but what I really don't understand is why they-she? wouldn't let you go until, well until…"

"Until I was dead?" Edmund asked quietly.

Peter looked at him sharply, his forehead creased with some strange mix of fear and wonder. "Were you dead?"

Edmund shrugged; strangely the thought of being dead had troubled him least of his experiences. "I suppose that depends how you define death."

"You stopped breathing." The matter of fact statement betrayed no emotion but Edmund could very well picture what Peter's reaction must have been.

"Then yes, I suppose I was. That isn't what you really want to know though, is it?" If Peter was going to force him to have this conversation they might as well get on with it.

"No, it isn't. The book said that for the vines to release you had to conquer your fears or some such rot; why did that mean you had to die?"

And there it was; the question he dreaded most. "I spoke with Aslan, while I was dreaming. He told me where to find the book, how to read it, and he warned me that there are three people I fear more than any others. The Witch-"

"Yourself," Peter interrupted quietly "And by conquer, the book meant kill, didn't it? So, when we found you bleeding to death-"

Edmund saw from Peter's expression where the sentence was going and thought it best to stop Peter before he could say it. "No, it's not what you think Peter. I was fighting the Witch in my dream, vision; what do you call it when a murderous plant traps you with your worst nightmares?" The attempt at humour seemed lost on Peter and his strained expression did not ease. Edmund sighed and went on, "Anyway, I was fighting the Witch and I killed her, but not before she got her blow in as well." _Never mind that I let her stab me._

"But you let her, didn't you?" Peter knew him too well, _far too well,_ Edmund reflected with annoyance.

"It was a gamble, but it paid off. I'm here, aren't I? Besides, I thought letting her kill me was better than slitting my own throat."

"Infinitely," Peter agreed darkly. "It was still a foolhardy thing to do; you could have died."

"That was rather the point, wasn't it?"

That silenced Peter for a long moment; when at last he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "And the third? You said there were three people you feared."

"You," Edmund admitted reluctantly, knowing he had no hope of avoiding the question.

Peter flinched as if he had been struck and the look of shock and hurt on his face was almost worse than the memory of him dead. " _Me?_ Ed, why?" He seemed dangerously close to tears.

Edmund looked down, unable to meet his brother's eyes. "It's more that I'm afraid you won't think I'm good enough; that you'll think I've failed you. I'm never quite sure how I can live up to your example. I mean, you're the High King, you're the one everyone trusts to protect Narnia, and I'm the traitor Aslan made king. I'm always afraid you won't trust me, and, why should you?"

"But I do trust you."

"I know, but knowing doesn't always kill the fear. I killed you, Peter, I didn't mean to, at least, I don't think I did. I knew I had to, to wake up, but I didn't want to. You blamed me for Orieus dying, in the dream world I mean, and it wasn't my fault; it really wasn't. When I realised that I stood up to you and we fought; I tripped you and you hit your head on the floor." The words seemed to tumble out of him in a confused rush as he stared down at the patterned coverlet on his bed. _Are those waves or mountains?_ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Peter nod.

"So, you finally realised you're not to blame for every tragedy that befalls Narnia."

"And then I killed my brother."

"So, you let the Witch kill you because you thought you became the version of yourself you feared most, is that about right?" Peter sounded vaguely angry and Edmund feigned a greater interest in the coverlet. _Waves; they have to be._  
"It worked; I'm here, aren't I? And what about your fears, brother? The vines wouldn't have let you go unless they thought-do vines think? That your fears would be better realised in the waking world."

"I was afraid of being too late." And that was really all he needed to say; that one sentence seemed to sum up the entirety of his fears. "Eddie, listen to me, and please don't try to argue."

Edmund wrinkled his nose. "I've rather outgrown that nickname, I'm not five anymore you know." But they both knew he didn't really mind.

"Hush, just listen to me. There's something Susan told me, about us being Narnia's sword and shield. I-we, both need to reconsider what that means. You need to realise your worth; without you Narnia would have been lost many times over these past years. No, I told you not to argue," he said sternly as Edmund opened his mouth to speak. "I need to realise there is only so much you can take, even if you refuse to admit it. Be Narnia's shield, and mine, if you must, but don't take needless risks. Don't be so quick to throw your own life away for mine."

Edmund nodded reluctantly. "I know; Aslan said something similar. And you, dear brother, you must stop being so afraid of failing to defend us. You've always been there whenever we have need of you most; that's enough for me."

"Will you stop avoiding me?" Peter almost sounded timid with the question.

Edmund grinned and looked up. "Will you stop hovering?"

"Never," he answered, with a matching smile.

"Then I reserve the right to avoid you whenever you are being particularly annoying."

"Fair enough. Are we friends again, then?"

"In the long years of our reign have we ever been anything else, my dear brother?" Edmund ducked unsuccessfully as Peter ruffled a hand through his hair.

"Now, get some sleep. I'll never hear the end of it if Su-" He broke off guilty, staring at the suddenly open door.

"Peter Pevensie!" He may have been a High King but his sister's voice had the power to make even Peter pale. She stood in the doorway, balancing a tray of food in one hand with the other hand firmly planted on her hip in the universal pose of an irate mother.

Peter smiled, somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry Su, I was just leaving." Edmund shot him a pleading look which Peter was careful to ignore as he darted gratefully past Susan. _Sorry!_ He mouthed over his sister's head and fairly ran before she could further reprimand him.

Edmund gave his sister what he hoped was an innocent look; she huffed and set her tray down, though her expression softened. "So, you talked I presume?"

"Enough; is that my favourite stew?" He still wasn't about to admit how hungry he was.

"Cook seems to think you don't eat nearly enough and I happen to agree with her, but don't change the subject." She returned his glare with a sunny smile that rivaled even Lucy's.

"Yes, we talked; we both agreed to stop being idiots, Peter especially." He smiled at the annoyed look that flashed briefly across Susan's face. "Really Su, it's alright, or it will be soon enough."

"Good." She sat gracefully in the chair recently vacated by Peter and crossed her arms. "Then it's time you and I had a talk. If you ever attempt to leave Cair Paravel, while ill, injured, exhausted or otherwise indisposed, without my permission or knowledge again I will have Orieus guard your door himself until you are well. And, before you think of following our royal sister's example, I will post guards below your window. Do you have any idea how worried I was when Lucy told me you were gone? Or how guilty we both felt when Peter came back without you?"

"Su, you know I had to-"

"No, you didn't. I know you think you did, but there are others to protect Peter besides you. You could have sent a troupe of soldiers after him."

Edmund nodded, though privately he disagreed. It had to be him who went, still he did feel rather ashamed; he really hadn't thought of what Susan must have felt. "I'm sorry Susan, I was only thinking about getting to Peter; I didn't realise how worried you would be."

"Well, now that you do know I trust you will do better in future." She smiled again and kissed him on the forehead. "Now eat your stew and go to sleep."

"Susan?" She paused with her hand on the door handle and looked back. "Thank you; I don't remember mum very well, but from what I do remember you are very like her." Susan's face fairly glowed with pleasure.

"Goodnight, Ed, sweet dreams." And to Edmund's surprise no nightmares plagued him when he gratefully followed her advice.

Susan nearly collided with Peter as she closed the door to Edmund's room. "Is he okay?" Peter whispered.

Susan sighed and leant her head against his shoulder. "He will be, I think. He's Edmund, even if he isn't he'll try to be."

"And you?" Peter's question surprised her. "It must have been hell for you, Su, with both of us missing and Calormen threatening war."

"It was," she admitted tiredly. "I feel as though I haven't slept in weeks."

"Then, dear sister, perhaps you should." Peter's eyes twinkled with amusement as she yawned and stumbled away, mumbling a barely audible goodnight. When he was sure she was gone he crept back to Edmund's door and slipped inside the room, careful to be silent.

Edmund was asleep, an empty stew bowl dangerously close to falling from his hands. Peter smiled, retrieved the bowl and pulled the blankets closer around his sleeping brother. Edmund would have huffed indignantly if he had been awake, but Peter was beyond caring. He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled again as Edmund shifted unconsciously closer to him. His family was home; was safe, and, at least for now, there was peace.

 **Wow, I ended a chapter on a happy sentence! That happens very rarely. Anyway, thank you for all the lovely reviews, especially JustValiant1717 for your reviews of the earlier chapters, you absolutely made my day! :-)**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


	12. Epilogue

**Eleven hundred words of pure fluff! Sorry it's short but I'm in bed fighting of a bad case of the flu and cannot seem to write anything longer at the moment. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this story and thank you for all of your lovely reviews!**

Peter woke to the distinctly unpleasant sensation of someone poking him in the ribs with their elbow. He opened his eyes, somewhat blearily, to find himself half falling off Edmund's bed. The elbow in question, which had so disturbed his rest belonged, unsurprisingly, to Edmund.

"I say Pete, can't you go snore in your own bed?" To say Edmund was not fond of mornings would have been a terrible understatement. He loathed them, and his siblings often found themselves wondering if he was even himself until he'd eaten a decent breakfast and drunk an absurd amount of coffee.

Peter groaned and stood stiffly to find that it couldn't even still be properly called morning; the sun was high in sky above Cair Paravel and the sounds of bustling servants, soldiers, traders, and many of others rose from the courtyard below. He promptly threw a pillow at Edmund's head and smiled broadly.

"Come on, Ed! I'm sure if we ask nicely our royal sisters will beg the kitchens for our breakfast." Edmund growled and pulled the blankets up over his head. Peter laughed and left him to it, knowing that in ten minutes Edmund, even if he couldn't properly be deemed so yet, would stumble into the small dining room the four of them used for a breakfast room and immediately make for the coffee.

As it turned out it was a full fifteen minutes later when Edmund stumbled downstairs, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Peter, joined by Susan and Lucy who had kindly waited to have their own breakfasts, was already eating when the younger king at last dropped into his chair, practically disappeared into his coffee cup and did not speak for a full ten minutes longer. The others, amused as always, but not surprised, knew to leave him well alone until he spoke of his own accord.

Unfortunately, the dwarf bearing the four monarchs' mail had no such knowledge of Edmund's habits upon first being woken and, when he entered, bowing and handed Edmund a letter, Edmund stared between him and the letter for a moment, obviously considering throwing both of them out. Then he groaned, thanked the dwarf somewhat less graciously than he should have, passed the letter to Peter and poured himself more coffee.

"You read it Peter, it's from that dratted Calormen fellow, what's his name, Rummash?"

The Calormen's name, as Edmund well knew, was Ramlash and he was the very same with whom Peter had so nearly come to blows in Anvard, that is to say the Calormen ambassador. Shaking his head and wondering how someone so bad tempered in the mornings could be Narnia's finest diplomat, Peter broke the seal and began to read.

 _To Edmund, King of Narnia, Most Noble Knight, Esteemed and Feared Monarch, Greetings in the name of Tash the Mighty, the Inexorable; the Irresistible._

 _My master the glorious Tisroc, may he live forever, counts himself and all his people blessed by Tash that you have been safely returned to your fair and terrible royal siblings._

Here Peter paused in his reading, frowning slightly.

"What is it Peter?" Lucy asked at last, curiosity overcoming her.

Then Peter burst out laughing, nearly choking with the force of his mirth. The other three stared at him, all smiling slightly in amusement at his reaction, until he at last wiped his streaming eyes, cleared his throat and handed the letter back to Edmund. "I think you'd better see the rest for yourself, Ed."

Edmund took the letter and continued reading aloud.

 _My dear and noble king, I beg your leave to speak plainly; hath not one of the poets said "the man who does not speak his mind chokes upon his own words"? Most esteemed king, I beg you, defend me from the wrath of the High King your brother, for he is a fearful fellow, terrible in countenance and most harsh in language. I tremble in fear to think what torments would have befallen me had not I taken flight from his presence at once. For fear of his wrath this treaty between our two fair lands shall be held as long as I yet breathe or live in service of our most esteemed and dreaded Tisroc, may he live forever…_

"Etc. etc. By the Lion Peter, what did you say to him?" Edmund gaped at his brother with equal astonishment and wonder. "'Defend me from the wrath of the High King'? 'For fear of his wrath this treaty shall be held'? Do you know how long I've been trying to make that dratted little worm sign our treaty?"

Peter laughed, still dabbing at his eyes. Susan and Lucy were staring at him in astonishment as Edmund was. "You know, I haven't the faintest recollection, but it must have been stiffly worded."

"Stiffly worded?!" Edmund sputtered and reached for his coffee cup. "Honestly Pete, perhaps I'll send you on all my diplomatic missions from now on."

Peter paled suddenly in horror. "You wouldn't dare!"

Lucy giggled in a very unqueenly fashion. "Perhaps you would like to deal with the Telmarine ambassador next Peter, I'm told he likes to listen to the most frightfully tragic Telmarine love songs."

Peter shook his head emphatically and said, somewhat more seriously, "Honestly, I'm shocked the fellow isn't outraged. No, if I took up diplomacy there would be far fewer diplomats and far more wars when I was done. If anything, this has served to remind me how difficult a task you have, Ed, and I'm jolly glad it's you and not me appointed to it."

"As I'm sure are all diplomats and ambassadors," Edmund added, smirking.

"I will drink to that," Susan said gravely raising her coffee cup; Peter and Susan joined her enthusiastically. Edmund flushed slightly and smiled. _Thank you Aslan, for my family, my kingdom, and for coffee._

* * *

It is here that our story draws to an end. Suffice it to say that the peace with Calormen was not as well kept as all may have wished, but that is another story altogether and has been told in other places. And so, we leave our four monarchs, seated about the breakfast table, with the hearts overflowing with joy and peace. If ever afterwards Edmund doubted his worth to Narnia the others were there to remind him of it and, in turn if Peter ever came close to blaming himself without cause Edmund would at once, not always kindly, remind him of their agreement. And so they lived happily, if not ever after, than at least for a very respectable time.

 **Until next time!**

 **Cheers,**

 **A**


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